Divergent X
by Eduard Kassel
Summary: What if the conflict between Magneto and Xavier was not so clear cut? Rather than black and white the issue comes to shades of gray? Rogue & the Brotherhood face the X-Men as they take up the conflict begun by the previous generation. No pairing yet.
1. Prologue

_With this piece I declare the polls opened!!_

_Anyway, here is my X men Evolution story, or rather the start of it. Canon will at times be respected and mostly be ignored when it clashes with my ideas. _

_Aside from Rogue powers will be the same. _

_OCs will happen but with one exception the focus will be on the canon characters._

_This will feature a lot of gray, the X-Men will not be Mary Sues, and the Brotherhood will not be mustache twirling villains. But this will not be a Magneto wank and I will not be bashing Xavier. Rather Magneto and his followers will be portrayed fairer than typical and Xavier/X Men have more issues that cannot be easily resolved. As a fan of George RR Martin I try to make an interesting tale about conflict between people rather than ideals of good and evil._

_No yaoi or yuri planned but if the muse points I will follow. Confirmed heteros will stay hetero, only unconfirmed or dubious ones will be at risk so to speak. May not even happen even if it does it likely will not be prominent since the pairings I have planned for the story structure as of now are all male-female and adding another would mean changing the structure to accommodate._

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Divergent X

_Prologue_

Butterfly Wings 

Giving up on sleep he decided to get dressed. It was too early, especially for an old man.

Like most he had believed that term would never apply to him, even if he lived for a hundred years. Time may not make fools of us all, but to those who are not fools it gives a certain grudging humility.

Dreams had driven him from his sleep, and the unease that lingered in his waking made him decide trying to keep resting was a waste of time. The memory of the dream was already fading, but the essentials remained. After all these visions had haunted him most of his life.

The Camps, Hell on earth where the last shreds of his childhood and innocence had been stripped from him like the clothes off a rape victim. The place was from his past, but the people were of now. And of course his own failures, the sins that he knew someone or something would hold him accountable for made their way to the surface.

Erik Lehnsherr shook off this depression with practiced ease, turning his mind to more pressing matters.

He could guess what had caused this unpleasant relapse. Mystique, that woman was a blessing and curse rolled into one. She was a deadly weapon that could explode in his hand; John had reminded him so on multiple occasions.

Despite misgivings on his part, and the objections of more than one of his lieutenants, he had appointed her to head up the Society's new American Branch. Giving her the Brotherhood of Bayville had been a way to both fulfill her desire for advancement, and keep her at a distance from the true centers of power. He had hoped her exemplary record as an operative would translate into leadership abilities.

He had been vastly disappointed. She ruled solely by intimidation leaving her charges to their own devices unless using them. Training was loose and lacking in coordination. She had done nothing to turn a pair of delinquents into soldiers, simply augmenting their abrasive and aggressive nature with rudimentary combat skills. He doubted they even truly understood what they were expected to fight for.

And now she had the grail. The girl was calling herself Rogue, even before her powers manifested she had been an outcast, facing the pointless discrimination so called normal people practiced against those they singled out. In the coming war this angst ridden girl could very well be the deciding factor, and already matters were needlessly complicated!

Precogs, they were always right until they were wrong. They had come within a hairbreadth of loosing one of their most promising prospects to Charles. Mystiques methods of deception, while effective in the short term, could prove disastrous if exposed. Loyalty built on deception was inherently weak. Also the possibility remained that she could try and harness the girl for her own use by revealing another truth.

The man known as Magneto reached a decision. He had placed too many aspirations on the girl to risk loosing her as a result of Mystique's shortcomings. Scooping up a phone he dialed a number, it was time he called in an expert.

_JFK International Airport, New York, USA_

The man was of average height, but nonetheless he managed to draw attention to himself. Perhaps it was the way he carried himself, an economy of movement that some would recognize as a sign of military training. It could have been his attire, a black suit, tie, a silver cross standing out starkly against this background and gloves, offset by sturdy military boots. His suitcase was normal enough. But the reason the commuters looked at him only to avert their gaze were his burns. His face and what could be seen of his head (a broad brimmed black hat concealing some of it), was marred by burn scars. No visible patch of skin was undamaged, hairless and features reduced to a near skeletal simplicity, the lips thin with a line of white peeking out where they did not quite connect.

John Lazarus watched as the Mundani tried their best not to notice him and felt exasperation and amusement. Cowardice was more appalling than rudeness and they feared they would come off as rude so they did not look at him, which was in fact rather rude. Humans were such contrary creatures; it was no wonder their civilizations' where pointless and destructive.

Scanning the crowd he finally saw his goal, a sign marked J. Lazarus. Eager to be on his way he cut through the crowd and soon found himself looking down on the woman who had held the sign. She stood only about two cm. below him but the hat and his attire made him seem more impressive. The woman was dressed in blue business ware with a skirt that stopped short of her ankles and her reddish brown hair was pulled back into a bun. She raised a gloved hand by way of greeting a gesture he returned.

Without a word exchanged she turned to leave with him in tow.

_Car enroute to Bayville_

The burned man and the business woman sat in the back of a fine car as it made the journey upstate leaving the sprawling metropolis of New York behind. It was silent for the moment, but more comfortable than tense as the woman reviewed a dossier and John watched the twilight world go by through a window

"So, how does it feel to be stateside again?" the woman asked him.

"Not much different than anywhere else. I was in the city last time; this area is a different animal. Besides Frau Beseler, just because you live somewhere does not make it home. Even Canberra holds few sentiments for me these days,"

"Its Miss Beseler, I grew up on this side of the Atlantic Mr. Lazarus," she reminded him with a sigh. She finally removed her gloves and got, comfortable; her eyes truly were her best feature a sharp piercing blue, including the two that rested in the palms of her hands'.

"This country is so quick to toss aside the past, a foolish habit. It is our past that makes us who we are in the present. Even when the past is unknown it rules your future," he chuckled.

"Then call me Alice, and why don't we stay on topic? You know why you are here?" she queried.

"Yes, Lord Magneto has finally realized that the blue whore is not to be trusted with the molding of the next generation. I must say though, I did not expect to get the job. Rather than removing me from Coventry wouldn't taking Phalanx have been easier? I have been administering our British program for years, and this is the sort of thing I have been training the lad for," he speculated.

"Apparently you did not get the full briefing," Miss Beseler observed. She handed him the dossier, which he began to read.

Alvars, Lance, codename Avalanche, he stopped reading. Again the unaccounted for play on names, honestly what point to code names when they were practically your real name? Still it was better than poor Alice stuck with the codename Four Eyes. He almost groaned at Tolansky, Todd, codename Toad.

The last student was Darkholme, Anna Maria, codename Rogue. Leave it to the lasses to step out from a stupid trend.

Age sixteen the girl was raised by a back up roster operative, he recalled meeting the Precog once. Her powers had been predicted to manifest later this month but unsurprisingly the prediction was almost right while being wrong enough to cause a lot of problems. The girl was one of Mystique's children, and as usual the changeling had abandoned her offspring for someone else to deal with. Though perhaps that was a blessing, she would probably have made a terrible mother anyway.

Her mutation had been active since birth but not fully manifested. It acted more like a disease effecting her skin and endurance. Albino white skin with high aversion to sunlight and despite a lifelong physical training regimen retained piss poor endurance. These shortcomings especially her skin had made her an almost instant pariah, human tolerance at its finest. Thus she had adopted a Goth persona and started going by the name of Rouge.

Hmm, while he liked seeing people swim against the current he distrusted the pagan undertones of Goths. He had met many mutants that treated God's divine gifts like they were witchcraft or some pagan godling's leavings. Hopefully it was simply angst and playing to her circumstances.

Her powers allowed her a poison touch, any physical contact draining the victim. In the case of humans it was a portion of their physical abilities and muscle memory. It had been noted already by Mystique that the absorption process temporarily alleviated the disease like symptoms of her mutation.

Most interestingly when using it on mutants she gained their powers in the same manner. While only temporary the potential of a mutant that could wield any power excited him. Though it would have drawbacks since a power she had not trained for could make her a hazard to herself and comrades.

There had been a scare about her absorbing mental residue after this occurred with her first victim. But the effect had not recurred with the X-man she had touched or the test subjects. Hopefully it was just a fluke of the mutation awakening.

Reaching the end of the report his suspicions were confirmed. The red S told him exactly why he had been removed from such an important position to build a Yankee operation from the ground up. If Rogue was an S Class her loyalty to the cause had to be absolute, loosing control especially to the Elitists was utterly unacceptable.

"That answer your question?" Alice asked as he stared off into space.

"Yes, even Xavier and our Lord are only High A. I did not think I would witness another S class in lifetime, God is truly moving us toward a confrontation against the Mundani," he answered. Alice groaned inwardly, she did not see him winning over any teenagers with his bizarre take on religion. However he was regarded as one of the best when it came to training and indoctrination, so either it worked better than it sounded or he kept his beliefs to himself.

"She only is classified as a potential S class Mr. Lazarus. It is quite likely she will only be A, though that would still make her a major asset," Alice pointed out.

"Asset? It makes her sound like a car or a parcel of land. This young woman I think will stun even lord Magneto when she reaches maturity. In fact I believe leadership training should begin shortly, after all her intelligence and general competence is rated the highest among the three," Lazarus pondered.

"Don't you think she should follow before she leads?" Alice asked.

"She has been rather antisocial when dealing with peers in the past. The prospect of power over others can lure her in, while responsibility will force her to come out of her shell. It is always better to make them think they make the decisions, give her what she wants so she takes what she needs. I have been doing this for years remember?" he chuckled.

"Though I am uneasy about running this operation in Charles Xavier's backyard. The man is an idealist and an elitist, who is skilled in tempting and deceiving with the liberal opiates and the luxuries of capitalism. It seems to me we are smoking fags around an open petrol barrel," Lazarus mused.

"You are not the first to point that out, and I haven't heard a good answer yet. Maybe the boss hopes we will win some of them over? Or perhaps it's a test to see who can be swayed by Xavier's money?" Alice offered.

"Either way Lord Magneto must have his reasons to take such a risk. It is not our place to question his decisions. I am relieved though that it will be me rather than the Whore that will be dealing with Xavier," he smiled.

"Remember she is still technically in charge and your boss. Your position is Deputy Administrator, she is in charge of the operatives assigned to Bayville and you are in charge of recruits," she pointed out smiling.

"Thus I will be the only operative under her command while every recruit is under mine. So she is to be the queen while I am the PM," she observed.

"Well be sure to not push her majesty to far, she is a valued asset to the Society," Alice persisted.

"The presence her and her ilk only weakens us, they care only for advancing their own cause, not Lord Magneto's vision. We are the chosen race singled out by God, but Saul was also of a chosen race and degenerated into treason," Lazarus muttered.

"Keep a lid on that Blight, focus on Rogue and the other recruits not your grudge with Mystique," she ordered.

"Of course, we will both need to rest up. Tomorrow you deal with the changeling while I try and rein in a pair of delinquents and manipulate a Goth to glory. You know I do love my job," he stated.

The silver car continued down the highway one amongst many. People only meters away went about fretting over lateness, directions, or noise blissfully ignorant to the events transpiring so close to them.

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Please good people of the internet, review. Also there is a poll in my profile, the outcome will determine which story among those listed will get priority in regards too updates.


	2. Setting the Board

**Well here is Chapter One. The poll results show this as the clear winner. That along with some positive developments RL means that updates in general on my account should increase in frequency. I also took the liberty to act on reviews and edit the prologue; thank you to all the constructive reviewers.**

**I do not Own X-Men Evolution, if I did this would be canon rather than fanfiction. I do lay a certain claim to John Lazarus and the other OCs though.**

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**Setting the Board**

Day four Mutant High, sunny with a certain chance of dorks.

Rogue repressed the urge to sigh with practiced ease. For most of her teen years she had been lamenting the predictability of her life, wondering if something interesting would happen. Well congratulations girl!

What a week, she thought. She gets her first real kiss only to spend the night with an identity crisis and being hunted by freaks in spandex. She steals a blue boy's super power and finds out she is a freak too. A red letter day indeed!

Funny how all those years her peers had called her that only to be right. Well, she supposed, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

Her ma's friend, coworker, comrade, er whatever; had picked her up and put her on a plane for Yankee land. So here she was living with the Brotherhood and back to high school. Her theory that high school sucked wherever it happened had been validated, though at least this place seemed to have lots of money to throw around.

It hadn't taken long for her to be pegged as a freak. Her skin and hair set her apart too much and frustratingly resembled Goth style. Back in Louisiana she had been part of the Goth clique, mainly because they had been the ones who actually approached her. This time she was not going to be joining that lot, compared to her problems they were just whiny brats out for attention.

The most annoying issue right now was the fact that she was living with the Brotherhood. Lance and Todd were an ass and a slob, but she had put up with worse. No the problem was that with a name like the Brotherhood some had raised concerns on her using the ladies room! Rogue covered up, her clothes, gloves and boots left only her face and neck exposed. She had cream that kept her from burning if she didn't do something stupid, but it was easier just to put her hide under wraps. Sadly, in a world where most teenage girls would fight the administration to show off their assets, a girl clearly going out of the way to hide her body drew suspicion. Rogue would be the first to admit she was not the most feminine, but if someone worked up the gall to ask if she was a tranny to her face she would slam them into a wall!

Still she was confident that issue would go away. The lingering problem was the X-Men.

Mystique said she had been relocated for her safety. So apparently she was safe sharing a homeroom with the people that had given her one of the worst nights of her life? Mutant or human it seemed adults insisted on being contrary.

The X-boys she had no great issue with. Scott seemed more like a lead sheep than anything else. Not to mention he was kind of cute, she derailed that train of thought quickly. He was the enemy! Even if, unlike her so called peers, he believed in bathing and not dressing like he lived in a garbage dump.

Then there was the matter of Kurt Wagner, the German dark elf. Since she had stolen his powers she had made a point to find out more about him. She could empathize with the foreign student to a degree. Also it had been great having his powers. It flushed out Cody's memories letting her get her head back together, and she had been able to teleport all over the place. Even more interesting she had felt great doing it. According to Mystique her body chemistry altered whenever she absorbed someone powers, basically it temporarily cured her condition.

She had never been the socializer, so if touching people was a trade for finally winning the war against her own body she would take it!(1)

Anyway, it seemed like she should apologize to Kurt. The problem was he was always with someone, and she did not want to start rumors by asking to speak with him alone.

Of course if the X boys were tolerable the girls were anything but! That little rat had blindsided and attacked her! She was blindsided by a girl who started every sentence with the word "like," that was a big blow to her pride. Not to mention the underclass girl seemed to be growing into a satellite of Jean Grey.

That bitch, all other reasons aside she would have probably ended up hating the X-Men just because Jean fucking Grey was one of them. Typical two faced prep, acting all high moral only to show her true colors when things didn't go away. And on top of that she was a little miss perfect captain of the soccer team and honor roll regular.

Well math, one of the many banes of her existence, was about to kick into gear. Time to focus and hope she could get a C- out of this. Curse you Pythagoras.

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The Brotherhood of Bayville: a bit too gender-exclusive for his tastes, but it did have a certain resonance. He'd let himself into the Brotherhood House with the key Miss Beseler had given him. He found it, adequate.

First glances showed Mystique to be handling them well enough. There was an accumulation of dust and what-not, but it was acceptable. Though a more thorough inspection showed the boys to each have a stash of magazines and oddly enough a number of dirty socks under the couch in the main room. Rogue's room was somewhat disorganized, likely mitigated by the fact that she had not been able to bring most of her possessions with her.

Gaining access to the harlot's chambers had proven far more difficult than expected. He would have to find out where she got that door. Hmm, sheer luxury, as expected; she spared no expense on herself. It reminded him of the time he visited Versailles.

"So this is where the budget went," he thought aloud. These were his quarters now and he had no need of these useless trappings. His own tastes were more Spartan, with a few allowances.

If, as he suspected, she had used the Organization's money to furnish this room, it belonged to the position--not her. He could sell this lot for a tidy sum.

No, he concluded; as tempting as it was to infuriate the harlot, he was under orders not to needlessly agitate her. He would let her remove these possessions to whatever new quarters she acquired.

His inspection done, he removed himself to the kitchen to wait for his first contact with the students.

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Kurt, as usual, was the first to arrive at the curb. Teleportation aside, he was quick on his feet, a skill he had picked up from a lifetime of hiding from the world. Even though he was now free to be very outgoing, and had in fact embraced this opportunity, the old habits persisted. So since he was always supposed to meet Scott here for a lift back to the mansion he made a point of getting there with time to spare.

The German lad did not mind this routine, after all it was a small thing compared to the many conditions he had observed back in Germany. Besides it was a warm sunny day, and he had a chance to recline against a tree looking cool for the ladies. Well, those were his thoughts on the matter at least.

Today as he waited his good mood was destined to be soured, when a certain jeep went by his spot. One Lance Alvar's jeep to be exact, currently carrying the Brotherhood of Bayville. Lance himself was driving, while Toad was looking sour sharing the back seat with three back packs. He saw Rouge sitting in passenger seat looking bored or tired, maybe both? She was wearing her usual jacket and make up, her eyes closed but clearly awake and annoyed by whatever Lance had on the radio and she jabbed the music machine. Then they were gone.

Kurt blamed himself for what happened. He had been the one to actually make contact with her, get her to wind down. And he only made it worse by putting his own powers into the mix in her head. Not to mention Kitty had freaked out when he collapsed.

Now Rogue was on the dark side.

"The dark side? Mein Gott, my life is becoming a sci-fi series," he moaned aloud, smacking his forehead by way of self recrimination. Scott's arrival trumped by a honked horn jolted him out of melancholy and back into his new role of funny foreigner. Calling out a greeting he ran up to the curb and hopped into the older mutant's car.

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The Principal's Office for Bayville High School had clearly been designed to present an open feeling with large windows providing a view of the grounds and letting ample sunlight pour into the room. Likely this was meant to both convey authority by its size and beauty, but also put visitors at ease. The shades drawn over those windows turned this effect on its ear; the room was inadequately light by the fluorescent lamp on the desk. The few stubborn lances of sunlight that broke through the shades only made the overall darkness more glaring.

Principal Danvers, also known as Mystique, had done little to personalize the office during her tenure. Nothing hung on the walls or sat on the desk to help humanize the authority figure that resided here. And there was no doubt the woman seated behind the desk was an authority figure.

Her brown hair was strictly organized in a tight conservative style, this stern look was furthered by her business clothing which left no room for color or anything that could conceivably take an edge off of her. Her glasses were of a cut as to give her face a more predatorial and angular appearance. Finally her face while technically beautiful was barred from being attractive; because one could tell at a glance that it was one more accustomed to bestowing scowls and recriminations than smiles or praise.

She was silent at the moment, her eyes lightly closed as she digested what she had been told. The expression on the principal's face was neutral but the atmosphere nonetheless was becoming charged. Her guest seemed oblivious to this, but those in her profession were trained to deal with stressful situations.

"Correct me if I am wrong Miss Beseler, but I believe this is what you are saying underneath all the legalese and politeness. Magneto no longer trusts me with my job and has not only replaced me in all but name, but he has replaced me with Blight," Mystique queried. Her tone was calm, but malice conspicuously lurked in between the lines.

"No, you still hold a position as head of our operations in this area. Mr. Lazarus will mainly be dealing with the students, hence his presence on site. He will report to you and provide you with counsel on your assignments concerning the Brotherhood," Miss Beseler responded. Mystique scowled at this, she was not one who took kindly to having words twisted around her when the truth was obvious.

"Blight hates me and the feeling is mutual. In no time those fools and Rouge will lose any respect for me, I will have to come to him in order to use them. And we both know for every report he gives me, Magneto will get four. Do not insult me with technicalities; I know when I am being cheated," the shape shifter answered. She shifted into her true form and rose to look down on the smaller woman.

She was certainly more imposing in this shape. Her clothes which tightened as she grew slightly in height and became much more toned should have detracted from this, but they didn't. (2) Perhaps it was because as she let her now scarlet hair down with one motion she rose with an eerie grace.

Alice knew this blue woman was an assassin, had known that coming to this meeting. Yet knowing that about someone and seeing them silently walk up to you with the grace of a tiger and smoldering rage filling a dark room; well it was hardly the same. The usually dominant rational part of her mind told her she was in no danger. After all Mystique would gain nothing by killing her and become a fugitive from the Society. Thus her rationality managed to suppress the desire to flee when a blue hand lightly gripped her shoulder.

"I know Magneto does not trust me, after all I can't say that I trust him. But if he truly thinks he can trust a lunatic like John Lazarus we are all in trouble. When that grenade goes off at his feet I hope Magneto remembers my warnings," Mystique leaned down to whisper in her ear.

Returning to her Principal form Mystique walked back to her desk and pulled back the shades. The light flooded in and the world seemed to change. If one were to look in on the well illuminated room seeing the usually prim and proper principal fixing her hair while a smaller woman was composing herself across from the desk; one would sooner believe some embarrassing conduct had occurred behind the shades rather than anything remotely ominous. Mystique looked out over Bayville intently, like a sentry watching the horizon for foes and prey. Beseler, for her part, knew the meeting was over and gathered up her things with all the dignity she could muster.

"Well if you have any valid concerns regarding his conduct contact me at my Manhattan office, through the usual channels. Have a nice day," Miss Beseler pleasantly stated; before slipping out of the room. She waited until she had exited the building and reached her car to let out a sigh of relief.

"That went as well as can be expected. Now it is up to John to keep this ship afloat," the lawyer thought.

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When Lance stepped into the Brotherhood House he knew something was wrong. He was not sure what, but he had a feeling. Rogue, having grown up with a very quiet guardian, realized someone was in the house. Toad for his part felt thirsty, and proceeded into the kitchen, oblivious to his cohorts glancing around concerned.

Thus first contact was initiated by the one least ready for it.

"What the fuck! What are you doing here?!" Toad shouted from the kitchen. Lance rushed after him to confront the apparent intruder, while Rouge rolled her eyes and followed at a normal pace.

"Reading the paper, apparently your Congressman is not keeping his campaign pledges," the intruder answered; with what she thought was a British (3) accent. Rogue found her path blocked, with Toad and Lance both standing in the kitchen doorway. Not in the mood she took the path of least resistance, and shoved the smaller boy out of the way. Stepping into the gap she saw someone; the foreign intruder was sitting at the table reading the newspaper. From this angle she could only see his black gloves holding its edges.

"Rouge, ever heard of asking a guy to move?" Toad grumbled. Before she could answer the smelly runt the mysterious stranger spoke up.

"So everyone's here? Good I would hate to have to repeat myself," he chuckled, folding the paper down he revealed himself. "My name is John Lazarus, refer to me as either Mr. Lazarus or sir. I am your new caretaker, boss, etc. I would say that I am pleased to meet you, but I can already see we have a lot of work ahead of us. So why don't we overlook the formalities and get started?"

The burned man grinned as best he could at his new charges. Lance looked thunderstruck, wondering what happened to this guy. Rogue was taken aback, but rationalized that with people like Kurt running around this should come as no surprise.

As for Toad his first thought was "Holy crap, this guy looks like Skeletor!"(4)

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(1) The full reality of this situation has not set in yet. So do not worry the tragic element will still be there.

**(2) I never understood how her clothes changed.**

**(3) Lazarus is Australian, but he has developed an accent that is relatively unique from spending decades in Emgland, America, and various other countries. **

**(4) The movie version.**

**_A big thanks to my Beta, WhisperToMeSoftly, for helping this story be all that it can be. _**

**Please Review.**


	3. Checking the Deck

_It seems I still do not own X-Men: Evolution. Who would of guessed?_

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Checking the Deck

Lazarus took in his new charges. Tolansky apparently had no idea the house had been invaded. The remaining two seemed to have realized something was off and as a result had done nothing to prepare for a confrontation. Furthermore, Rogue's entrance via casting aside a teammate showed a definite disregard for her teammates. Also, Tolansky clearly needed to be introduced to personal hygiene.

"My first impression is underwhelming," he said aloud. Folding up the paper he stood, continuing to observe the three young mutants. Rogue (unsurprisingly considering the file) was the first to assert herself in the situation.

"How do we know you're really with Mystique?" she demanded.

"You don't; but if I wanted to I could have already killed all of you when you came through that door. Feel free to call Mystique, and find out if I am telling the truth."

"If you're a mutant what's your power? Something to do with fire?" Alvars demanded.

Lazarus grinned at the question, not a particularly pleasant sight. He held up his right hand with the index finger extended, apparently asking for them to wait a moment. Walking over the counter, he lifted the lid on the trash bin and pulled out a discarded cereal box. Box in hand he dragged the bin over, placing it in front of the three.

Tucking the box under his arm he removed his right glove, revealing a hand as scarred as his face; the Brotherhood members started to wonder if his whole body was that damaged. With the bin propped open he held the box out with his bare hand over it.

Rogue was the first to notice the ripple (like a heat wave) form around the hand and box, but all their eyes widened at what happened next. The color seemed to bleach out of the box into a white gray color and then it started to crumble. There was no other way to really describe it; his fingers started to sink into the once solid matter and it fell through his grip like fine grains of sand. Finally the box tumbled into the bin with only the two ends farthest from his hand still holding together. Rogue noticed that his hand was clean, and she wondered if he had actually reduced the dust itself that he had touched to nothing.

"My codename is Blight, and around my hands I generate an energy field that breaks down the bonds that holds matter together. Wood, stone, flesh, there is very little that I cannot break down," he explained, pulling his glove back on.

"Since I have already read your files introductions would be a waste of time, so let's get to work," Blight stated clapping his hands together. The boys scrambled to get out of his way as the burned mutant strode though the doorway. Rogue just leaned against the frame letting his coat brush her as he passed.

Lazarus seemed to take no notice of the teenage girl's actions, proceeding to the foot of the steps where a pair of black suitcases and an army green duffel bag sat. Rogue and the boys kicked themselves mentally for not noticing that as Lazarus picked up the duffel bag.

"Alvars, does your jeep have gas?" he asked.

"Yeah," Lance answered.

"Excellent, grab your gear and get ready to go," Lazarus announced.

"Where we going?" Tolansky demanded.

"We are going to have a practical exam, a spar between you three and me. It will let me see what areas need the most attention in your fighting styles," the older mutant explained. What he did not mention was the beating would help instill that he was in charge in a way far more potent than Mystique's intimidation tactics.

"Which reminds me, I will need the keys," Lazarus announced. Toad grinned while Rogue cocked an eyebrow; they wondered if his files had told him what he had just stepped in. Lance rose to the challenge, his earlier discomfort forgotten.

"No one drives my ride but me," he answered, walking up to Lazarus.

"Drove," Lazarus answered.

"What?" Lance responded, thrown by the word.

"Drove; past tense, not present tense. You may own the car but that is a stupid childish idea. Cars handle differently, and possibly your team will depend on your comrades being able to effectively drive your car. Besides I am your boss, you do what I say not the other way around. Now the keys please, or would you rather satisfy your macho image by deciding the issue in an arm wrestling match?" Lazarus asked. With that last statement he held out his right hand; Lance briefly considered the hand, recalling what it had done to the cereal box.

Grumbling, Lance rummaged in his pockets and produced the keys, tossing them to Lazarus. Lazarus caught them with his outstretched hand and tipped his hat to his new students, without another word he went out the door leaving them to prepare.

"_Well that went well, far from my most memorable introduction_," Lazarus thought as he made his way to the parked car. Though, the thought made his mind wander to some of the more memorable encounters with his first students, causing him to pause in his progress.

"These three are very lucky, they have not really had it easy but they have yet to see how bad things are for our kind," he mused under his breath. Shaking off the potent memories, he contemplated the sunny day and cursed the lack of more concealing weather. Was this facility at all designed with the idea of secretly training mutants?! He would have to contact Beseler on the right contractors to get some decent facilities

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The Xavier Institute, a top notch facility acting as a boardinghouse and additional education center for gifted young people allowing them to cultivate their unique talents in a receptive and capable environment. At least, that is what the brochures said and what the neighbors were told.

The students had taken to calling the building Mutant Manor, and at least one member of the faculty had taken up the name when not around his peers. The mansion was beautiful; it displayed the wealth and power of the Professor for all to see, but the light color scheme and open setting allowing ample sunlight and sky to pour in painted a benign use of that wealth and power.

The grounds were vast and stretched from the imposing gates to the cliffs overlooking the sea and annexed a significant portion of the woodland. Many of the residents of Bayville would be surprised to know exactly how extensive the grounds were, and would perhaps wonder why the Institute would feel the need for such vast holdings. Though what would truly surprise them is what lay literally just beneath the surface of those pristine grounds.

Feeling, ironically, like a mouse in a maze, Kitty Pryde made her way through one of the ornate corridors to the elevators that would take her from the mansion to the true heart of the Professor's operations. Yet again she was running late, still making some adjustments to her uniform.

"Between honors and these training sessions, like something is going to totally give," she pouted. She well understood the need to learn how to control her powers, but honestly how often was she going to have to dodge laser blasts?

A popping sound and a puff of smoke ended her thoughts as she coughed and instinctively waved away any smoke that might be near her. As if it were the most naturally thing in the world, the most mutated of her fellow students crouched on the wall facing her.

"Hey Kitty, you running late too?" the German mutant greeted her. Kitty sighed; this was hardly the first such encounter between them on their way to training. At first she figured with his teleporting powers he thought he could get there quicker, but now she was suspecting he actually waited.

"You know, out of all of us you strike me as the least likely to be late. You ave the ultimate shortcut Kitty," Nightcrawler commented from his perch on the wall keeping pace with her.

"As if. I want to control my powers not let them take over my life," she answered.

"You're much better vith them now, no vay you'd ave another backpack incident," Kurt protested. He was cut off from continuing as Kitty fixed him with what could only be called a death glare.

"We totally agreed to never, I mean _never_ speak of that again," she almost growled. Kurt just nodded his head and let her take the lead. He may not be able to speak of it but he would certainly never forget it. Kitty had forgotten her backpack and ran back into the mansion as they were already running late. For whatever reason, she had decided to phase through the door rather than opening it coming back to the car. Apparently preoccupied she did not phase properly leaving the backpack behind when she phased – along with her clothes, all of them. It was hard to say who was redder, Scott or poor Kitty as she literally sank into the ground. Kurt knew it was wrong to think it, but that had been a good day!

"Kurt come on, or you'll end up working with Mr. Logan again!" Kitty called out. That snapped Kurt out of his fond reminiscing. In one poof he appeared standing next to Kitty as the elevator opened.

"No vay, I'll take the killer computer over vat man any day," he shuddered at the thought of the infamous Logan sessions. The door closed, leaving no proof that the Institute was anything more than the brochures said it was, while gifted youngsters trained for war.

* * *

They had left the main road for a dirt one, until at last they reached a clearing in the woods that seemed to satisfy Lazarus, prompting him to pull over. The picturesque scene of deciduous woodlands seemed to be lost on his new charges. Rogue was quick to get out; the shotgun seat was less satisfying when you had the front seat to John Lazarus' taste in music. Avalanche for his part was steaming for being forced into the back seat of his own car, with Toad no less! Toad for his part was just waiting to see when and if the other shoe was going to drop.

"This will do, perform your pre-training preps while I take care of some stuff," Blight announced to the younger mutants. He repressed a groan as they just looked at him oddly.

"Just meander about until I'm ready," he stated. As they did that he opened the trunk and opened his duffel bag. He retrieved two machines about the size of a basketball. The first one was a cube that he opened and drew out an antenna. Flicking a switch on its surface, he watched as a light on its side went from red to yellow to green. He placed that device as high as he could on the jeep before turning to the other machine. This one had a far less mundane appearance, a metal sphere slightly smaller than the aforesaid ball with its surface only marred by a fold dividing it in half. Gripping both sides he rotated it until it clicked and returned it to the bag with a grin.

"No peeking now," he muttered. Blight turned his attention to the students, Toad having perched himself in a tree and Rogue having somehow managed to start lounging already under a tree. Alvars was closest, leaning against the hood of the jeep, so Lazarus decided he would be first.

"Alright, now for the sparring. Rules are simple, I fight you each one on one and you are free to use your powers however you chose. Naturally I will not be using my powers since that would kill and/or maim you. However we will be treating my hands as deadly weapons, so if get a grip on anything important you lose. Avalanche you are up first," Lazarus announced tossing his jacket onto the car seat.

Lance simply grunted and walked into the clearing waiting for the older mutant to pause a short distance from him.

"Ready to rumble old man?" Avalanche taunted. Behind his glasses Lazarus rolled his eyes and nodded by way of answer.

Avalanche raised his hands, his eyes rolling back into his head as the ground began to shake. Rogue braced herself against the tree roots around her while Toad clung to the branches of the tree. Lazarus crouched down, spreading himself out and driving his hands halfway into the ground while dust piling up around them. Before long the quake let up and Avalanche's vision cleared, to the sight of Lazarus on his feet bearing down on him. Alvars stepped back avoiding a left hook, but his right leg exploded in pain as Lazarus used the momentum to launch a kick sending the younger man to his knees. Without slowing Lazarus grabbed him by the neck and shoulder, not quite choking him with the grip.

"Congratulations, you're dead. Toad, you're up, and don't vomit on Rogue," Lazarus announced letting Avalanche sink to the ground. Toad looking a bit greener than usual jumped down from the tree, eyed by Rogue suspiciously after Blight's comment.

Toad was far less confident than Avalanche had been. Though that likely had to do with how easily Blight had managed to subdue Alvars. After Avalanche removed himself, opting to sit next to Rogue, Toad took a position on the side of the clearing opposite the burned mutant.

There was no signal, Lazarus started to advance with a swift stride – not quite a run – and Toad jumped to try and keep the distance between them.

"Can you do anything besides run away little frog?" Lazarus laughed.

Problem: how did he provoke Toad into using his tongue so as to grab it and initiate the win? Lazarus' sharp mind quickly formed a solution, and he began moving at Toad in a zigzagging motion increasing his to a controlled run. And just as he predicted, Toad's dodges sent him closer and closer towards a tree on the edge of the clearing.

The next time Toad jumped away, therefore, he leapt up towards the tree, launching his tongue to try and grab a higher branch – at which point Lazarus dashed forward with his full speed and grabbed the slimy appendage.

Toad's eyes went wide as Lazarus used his own tongue and momentum to send him flying. As he hit the ground, the elder mutant released his hold on Toad's tongue and took a moment to dissolve the slime that had accumulated on his hands during the brief contact. That was a benefit of his powers most people overlooked

"Ahay, uy in," Toad slurred out as he pulled himself to his feet. However, as he turned around to walk away Lazarus dashed forward and lightly hit him in the back of the head. More surprised than hurt the teenager stumbled forward and turned to look at his instructor with a puzzled expression.

"_Now_ I win," the burnt man said with a smirk, "Technically you could survive without your tongue, but not without a head. And, as a further lesson you should keep in mind, _neve_r turn your back on your opponent."

As Toad walked off, his tongue still hanging from his mouth, Rogue rose from her spot without being called. Lazarus noted that she had not changed her outfit; well she was new so Mystique probably had not gotten around to getting her a uniform yet. She pulled off her gloves revealing delicate bone white hands; he could believe the poisonous nature of the deathly pale appendages.

"Your file said Destiny got you some actually training, let's see if you are up to SAS standards," Lazarus grinned. Rogue fell into a stance and Lazarus' smirk vanished, mixed martial arts, and not good in his opinion. One should learn a real style before trying to customize.

Rogue waited for him to come to her, neither attacking like Alvars nor delaying the fight like Toad.

"I wonder if we were really fighting-" Blight wondered walking up to her only to be interrupted as she launched a kick at his torso, which faded back, evading the attack. Her style was compact, trying to conserve her energy he realized. She didn't have any staying power without using her powers to charge.

Lazarus adopted a strategy of avoiding and evading. He did not have any fancy "Eastern" moves as he referred to them. His style was originally military unarmed with additions from street fighting, and his own odd innovations based around his power that he had picked up over the years.

It was a simple matter evading her strikes until she was tired enough for him to grab her by the forearms. His frame wasn't that impressive, but he was quite strong with wiry muscles conditioned for this kind of use. With him forcing her arms apart and her breathing heavy Rogue realized she was not about to be an exception.

"As I was saying, I wonder if we were actually fighting if you could take my power before I turned your skin to dust?" Lazarus reiterated, leaning down to look Rogue levelly in the eyes.

"_Hmm, a lovely color, life green in contrast to deathly white. God truly does work as an artist_," he thought.

"Ah give," Rogue hissed. Lazarus frowned and tossed her onto her ass.

"Idiot, you all failed but you easily did the worst," Blight fumed, at the trio and Rogue in particular.

"What?!" Rogue demanded, getting to her feet.

"Avalanche relied too much on his powers, and was no match once he reached his limit. Toad was smart enough to try and avoid me since my powers only work at close range. Also he used his agility to counter my speed. He lost but he did the best out of you three."

"You on the other hand could have won but missed your chance completely! If this were real that mistake could have made the difference between living and dying," Lazarus started.

"What the hell are you talking about, you owned her," Toad asked hopping up to Rogue and Blight.

"Your skin is where your power lies, not your hands. When I leaned down you could have head butted me and probably broken my grip by absorbing some of my energy. Not to mention your outfit covers most of your skin, effectively limiting your power. If you can't apply your power you will not be able to fight anymore effectively than a crippled human," Lazarus explained. That said he seemed to calm down and walked back to the jeep. He tossed Alvars his day clothes before climbing intro the drivers seat.

"You two will be walking back, Toad will be riding wit me since he did the best out of you three. Dinner will be fried chicken, it has been awhile since I had the good Kentucky stuff," he explained. For the first time ever Toad took shotgun and with a British salute Lazarus threw the jeep into reverse and turned to leave as they had come.

"Ah don't like him," Rogue muttered to Avalanche.

"Just start walking while I change," Alvars grumbled.

* * *

The Cerebro chamber was dark save for a single flashing red light. The cavernous room was illuminated as the door slid open, allowing someone to venture into the heart of the spherical supercomputer. Professor Charles Xavier silently traversed the walkway to the sole console. His normally calm face had a troubled look pass over it as he considered the blinking light; three keystrokes brought up a screen and his brow furrowed.

"A disruptor… so you have sent someone else Erik," Xavier mused. He put a hand to his temple, summoning his two instructors. The professor had a feeling the game's stakes had just been raised.

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AUTHORS NOTE:

_Some stories talk about using songs, not sure what that is about. However I did narrow the theme song for John Lazarus down to two, one is "Leave out all the Rest" by Linkin Park. The other is a Rammstein song that will be revealed next chapter, though I will give a little bonus to anyone who can guess the song before it is revealed._

_Also in case you're wondering about Lazarus' speed, it has nothing to do with his powers. Unlike the Brotherhood he has not only had training but a lot of experience as a fighter. The lack of any real training on their part is the reason he was able to beat them in succession like that._

_A big thanks to Zim'smostloyalservant for acting as beta in light of Whispertomesoftly's continued absence._

_Please review good people of the Internet._


	4. Interlude I

_AN: Here we have the first interlude. With the intro arc wrapped up this seemed a good place to put one. The Interludes are smaller chapters either one scene or IU data sources (the style of commentary popularized by Jared's Decades of Darkness). Basically: scenes out of the main storyline and IU articles and what not working towards world building._

_Also, ONE REVIEW!? After all this time the only feedback I got on the last chapter was one review? Why? If you didn't like it tell me so I can do better or something. But this silence is very demoralizing. Not holding the story hostage for reviews, I consider such tactics beyond the pale. But please review. _

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INTERLUDE I

**Hunted**

**Middle of Nowhere, Western Australia, 1993 **

Christopher Easton sat in his shack, not tasting his beer and getting ready to die.

He was a young man, though he had aged years over the last six months or so. His state was such that those who knew him would take a moment to know him. Sandy hair that was normally cut short and well cared for hung about his neck, unwashed and clumping, a few stray locks falling into his face. A crude beard born from neglect obscured his boyish features, and that was why he had kept it. But most of all the eyes were different, the electric blue orbs had sunken and now called to mind brittle glass, encircled by discoloration brought on by insomnia.

Christopher sipped his beer not tasting it and one again wondered if he should die or fly? The young man did not want to die, least of all be killed like a dog alone and unmourned in Dogshit Austrailia, but the alternative . . .

Once he had see the Veil shatter he had known Daigoro was dead and that he and Molly would be next on the Chaplain's list. Willing or not they had helped Daigoro, and he had known for years how crazy the Chaplain was. Hell the man had thrown him off a cliff, for training! True it had worked, but who does that?!

Maybe he should have gone with Molly, headed down into the valley and begged the Chaplain for mercy. Well he had gone with running, and there was no unringing that bell now.

Bells, like the funeral for Duncan.

"Shit," Christopher muttered. No bells for me, he realized. No one knew about him outside the Church, and to them he was probably just a traitor to be Silenced.

After the mess with Daigoro he knew the Chaplain would send the Seekers after him. The Chaplain was not a bout to let one of his Templari run loose, either for security or a matter of his twisted principals of loyalty.

There had been no choice! Daigoro would have killed him if he said no. It wasn't like he had wanted to see all those people get killed, that had been all Daigoro, and he was strictly transport and recon. But of course the Chaplain, mister holier than thou, wouldn't see it that way. Death before disgrace, and all that shit the old man and his giant kept spouting.

"Damnit, I didn't ask for this. All I wanted was to be normal," he moaned, tugging on his beard.

He'd made it off Shikoku without much incident, flying most of the way before getting passage on a liner. Getting to Indonesia he had spent a month popping up on New Guinea, Timor, and a bunch of islands he couldn't remember. He even let it drop he was heading to Cambodia. That was before running south to Australia, then the outback. And finally to a two room wood shack half a days walk from the nearest sorry excuse for a town.

It was a small hope that if they lost his trail the Chaplain would recall the Seekers, bigger fish to fry and all that. But even then he had known it wasn't going to happen. Say what you will the Chaplain was determined; after all he had thrown Chris off a cliff to unlock his flight power. And the Seekers were above and beyond the Templar, members of the vassals and Templar singled out for fanaticism and ability to police the Church itself. Galeazzo even told him they were authorized to silence the Chaplain if he was deemed a threat to the Vermillion Path.

One thing was certain; if he dropped off the edge of the Earth those freaks would jump right after him.

They were closing in too. He had been feeling it for days, like when a storm is about to sweep in. But if they had followed him this far they would never stop.

He could have left, should have the moment his gut told him too. Was it worth it to keep living if he had to always be running? Enough, he had decided, better to let the axe fall and be done with it. If his gut was right it wouldn't be long, probably too late too run even if he changed his mind.

It's odd what you think about when you realize this was it, really it. Not about his crappy childhood, his mother, the stuff he helped Daigoro get away with; or even what he had achieved as a Templar.

Instead it was all he wouldn't do. He would never accompany the Chaplain to England and see what the old man called a real pub. All those times Galeazzo offered to chat with him and he turned the giant down. Carmen, he never did work up the nerve to take things to the next level, Kalunda had always told him to just throw out his chest and some flowers, "make like a man or, a lesbian" the cackling wall walker had advised. Molly too, she had bitten the bullet and he left her to face the Chaplain's laugh alone, for all the good it did.

Actually shedding tears he seized the bottle by the neck and threw it against the wall boards, an impotent gesture of rage. He was done, he would never do anything he loved again, and all he had done was all he would ever do.

"I don't want to die," he sobbed laying his head in his hands.

"Everyone dies," a female voice cut through his despair. He straightened in his chair recognizing the growl.

"Sealaig? I didn't think it would be someone I knew," he sighed, pulling himself together. He could actually feel her eyes boring into the back of his head; he always thought that was an expression.

"Jesus, why her?" he wondered in his head. He could have been tracked down by someone cold and ambivalent like the Gunslinger, even the too talkative Kalunda, or even the very scary Johnson. But no instead it was the fucking Wolf Girl of Cork. Easton dried his face with the back of his hand; he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching him break. She called him weak, maybe was but he wasn't about to give her a good show.

"I don't know you. I thought you were a coward, but I never thought you would turn traitor and aid in something . . . like that," the Seeker growled. Christopher was glad he couldn't see her fangs, he had seen her look murderous at other people, and it would cost him what remained of his courage.

"_He would of killed me_," Christopher protested. He knew it was weak, not like Sealaig would accept self preservation as a noble motive. Hell, just now he was thinking the same thing.

"Carmen is dead, Daigoro killed her. She wasn't ready, she insisted on coming because she thought she could bring you back," Sealaig told him. His stomach tied itself in a sailor's knot. She had to be lying, just twisting the knife before slamming it home.

"So is Robert, Talone, Rodolfo, and a few others are pretty messed up. Not to mention all those Mundani," Sealaig continued.

"You're lying, she was sacred of Daigoro even before everything went to Hell," Christopher growled. He made to rise from the chair only for a clawed hand to push him back down. He could feel her breath on his scalp, wet, hot, and the smell of blood. Rumors said she hunted, he didn't think it was true, surely he was just imagining it.

"I know, but she went after you in spite of fear. That is what Brethren do, we give our lives for Brethren," she hissed. The accusation wasn't hidden, just unspoken like a silent clown standing in the doorway, obvious despite the silence.

"And Lazarus keeps going. Daigoro was his . . ." the fugitive tried to protest only for a furry hand to seize his head and slam it onto the table.

"DO NOT CALL HIM AS IF WAS A FRIEND, OATH BREAKER! The Chaplain nearly died on Shikoku, he would have if Gaston hadn't healed him. As it is h has been banished to Britain by Lord Magneto himself, our leader is exiled from us! Without you Daigoro would never have made it so far, and our Brethren might still be alive, and the Chaplain. Galeazzo told me to bring you back if you didn't resist. But our Samson has always been too merciful," she snarled, her claws digging into his shoulders.

Malice was rolling off of her; he could taste, for lack of a better term, her desire to kill. Not him really, she was a fighter facing a crisis fighting wouldn't solve. When he had asked Galeazzo about Sealaig's past he had been told Lazarus had saved her from a place worse than anything Easton had go through. She had always been loyal to the point he thought even the chaplain was disturbed by her zealotry. So she was mad the object of her veneration had been disgraced and now she was going to take her frustrations out of his hide.

"Lucky me, and it probably will be slow and nasty. I could fight her, not beat her, never been able to and never will be able to. But she's stupid from anger and sees me as prey rather than a soldier. I could get away, maybe. Why though?" he thought with the strange clarity of a man seeing eternity in the barrel of a gun. Muscles he hadn't realized were tensed relaxed, as he decided this was for the best. If Carmen was alive he could never go back to her, and if she was dead. Well if that was true he deserved to be killed by a mad dog more than he had thought.

In the end at least it was quick. She released his head and deftly plucked a pry bar from her belt. Before he could lift his head or say anything more she brought the metal down across the back of his skull. Se was glad the crunching sound sent a chill down her spine, proof she was not quite as bestial as she appeared. He twitched a little before going still, the smell of his released bowels and a quick vitals check confirmed he had been silenced.

She let the murder weapon fall to the floorboards, for whoever passed as the law around this nothing to find. Looting the body and shack of anything valuable, and making it obvious they had been looted, would sell the idea it was just a random murder/robbery.

She only paused when she pulled a photo out of his wallet. The fresh corpse and dearly departed Brethren, looked like Mexico City to her. With her claws she cut off a lock of Christopher's hair and wrapped it around the small silver cross he had been wearing. Something to bury back home and say prayers over, just a small favor for a fallen Brother. Ready to depart she looked back over her shoulder at the pathetic cadaver one last time over her shoulder.

"I will miss you Soarer, you were endearingly foolish. God have mercy on your soul," the Seeker whispered, letting sorrow flow in the words. She didn't close the door, falling to all fours she vanished into the night, a shadow upon the moonlit desolation.

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Please Review


	5. He Lied With Every Word

**I still do not Own X-Men Evolution. But Blight is mine so no touching! **

**Read Author's Note at the end.**

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**He Lied In Every Word**

_MY first thought was, he lied in every word,_

_That hoary cripple, with malicious eye_

_Askance to watch the working of his lie_

_On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford_

_Suppression of the glee, that purs'd and scor'd_

_Its edge, at one more victim gain'd thereby. _(1)

* * *

The atmosphere was very… macho. Not masculine she decided; that would be insulting to cultured and intelligent males like the Professor. This place was crude, loud, and vulgar; if there had ever been any doubt she now knew she hated monster trucks.

Jean reached up to fiddle with the cowboy hat she was wearing, not at all her style. Mr. Logan had told her to wear it so as to better blend into the crowd, a valid reason, but she still suspected it was a joke of some sort. She glanced over at the older mutant; he had become more of a fixture around the Institute lately, but remained an enigma. For most of her time at the Institute he had come and gone with no real pattern but with no reason that she was aware of.

More than that, besides his powers she and Scott only knew his name. The Professor she knew came from old money and his academic achievements were a matter of public record, mostly. Miss Monroe she knew had a sister and nephew living downstate. But for the middle-aged mutant she knew next to nothing.

He seemed to blend in well with the blue-collars, apparently neither enjoying nor annoyed by the display below or the crowd. They were supposed to be on the same team, with him as a leader, but he kept everyone at arm's length. Jean did not even receive the normal psi-residue from being next to him. Everything about him was as unreadable as his expression.

The young mutant was distracted from her study of Wolverine by the announcer introducing the sideshow. Time to confirm Cerebro's findings and carry out her first recruitment mission, she affirmed to herself.

Despite herself, Jean was impressed by the display of Fred Dukes' abilities. Such strength and durability would be quite the asset; after all except for Scott the X-Men lacked much in the way of brute force in their powers. It was interesting how people just accepted the display that would unsettle them under other circumstances. It was all in the atmosphere she supposed; in the name of entertainment they not only suspended their disbelief but saw a trick here rather than the truth in front of them.

She gave a small smile in sympathy as the big boy slipped and the applause was replaced with laughter. While he did seem too thin skinned, no one liked messing up in front of a crowd. After Dukes stormed out of sight, Logan rose from his seat.

"Let's go Red," he stated. Jean nodded and followed him through the establishment until they reached a door labeled "Employees Only" with a thickset man in a black shirt guarding it. Logan moved to the side and let Jean advance; for her part the girl was both nervous and excited about taking point in this kind of mission. Stroking the guard's mind telepathically to calm and reassure him, he accepted the offered pair of fifties to let them through.

Backstage was hardly better hygiene wise than the main area, at least it was less crowded and thus quieter. The two mutants drew some raised eyebrows from staff members they passed, but it was no great effort for Jean to remind them of other business they had to deal with.

Using another bit of influencing (which Kurt seemed to be campaigning to be dubbed a "Jedi mind trick") they found their way to Dukes' dressing room. Jean failed to notice Logan halt sniffing the air as his mood darkened. Her internal rehearsal of her recruitment pitch was broken as a calloused hand grabbed her shoulder.

"We're pulling out Red, the situation just got hot," Logan growled. It took Jean a moment to register what he had said and she frowned in response.

"What are you talking about, the Professor told us to meet with Dukes," she insisted, brushing off his hand.

"Mystique's scent is all over this hall; she's probably already in there with lard boy. We came here to talk not fight," Logan answered, crossing his arms and retaking control of the mission.

"We should still try and give him our side," Jean pressed. She did not want her first near-solo mission to be a failure after all.

"Nothing doing, after what happened with the rogue we are not going to jump in without knowing how deep the water is," Logan growled. The grizzled Canadian turned his back on her and started back the way he came. Jean briefly entertained the notion of pressing on without him; she had not really wanted a chaperone in the first place. But the Professor would disapprove of her doing something so reckless. With an internal sigh Jean made to follow Wolverine leaving events to play out between Mystique and Dukes.

* * *

Lance Alvars roared with anger as he charged his adversary, striking out a right hook that should have put the guy into a world of pain, to use Alvars' own phrasing. Instead of entering aforesaid world of pain his target seemed to float from his blow to come alongside him. He felt the man's fingers pass into his hair and close a grip around several clumps. Lance's scalp began to scream as his own momentum began to pull on his hair, only to be distracted as a kick knocked up his right foot, which was were his weight was resting.

Lazarus released his grip and let Alvars fall to the padded floor, making a tisking noise as the teenager put a hand to his head. The basement had been cleared out on his instructions and the floor covered in gym pads – he called it the poor man's training room.

"Failure again Rapunzel," the scarred man chided.

"Stop calling me that," Lance growled.

"It is not so much you broadcast your intent as you blast it blazing into the night sky in monumental shining letters. Did it ever occur to you that attacking me was a bad idea?" Lazarus wondered.

"You said we were sparring," Alvars pointed out.

"Correct, but since I keep using your attacks against you perhaps a defensive strategy would be preferable? Still not enough to win, but maybe you could at least go for a minute without intimacies with the floor?" Lazarus informed him. Leaning down he offered Alvars a hand, which the still embarrassed teenager waved off pulling himself up.

Apparently nonplussed by the turndown Lazarus turned his attention to his remaining two students. Having saved Alvars for last they were doing the exercises he instructed, Rogue going at the punching bag with sweat beading on her face and Toad performing leg lifts, with weights tied to his ankles. The display must have pleased him since he gave a slight nod before addressing them.

"That's enough for tonight. Tolansky you have clean up this time. I want all of you turned in before the hour is up," Lazarus announced. Leaving them to gripe as they did cool downs and clean up Lazarus ascended the stairs, snagging his jacket from its hook as he went. Rather than replacing the garment he just slung it over his shoulder as he made his way to his chamber.

Locking the door behind him he took measure of the chamber. Being polite meant taking some time to purge the room of all traces of the Blue Harlot, but now he felt he could be comfortable here. As was typical of his habits a minimalist approach had been adopted, with bare wood floors and the walls painted off white with only three decorations adorning them. In place of a mirror a portrait reproduction hung over his dresser, a classic depiction of Taiko Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Opposite the dresser his desk was the largest piece of furniture, and despite a plain wood appearance more than locks guarded it. He let his gaze linger on the portrait that looked down smiling from the otherwise blank wall over his workspace. This portrait was an original; he had briefly doubted the wisdom of brining such a treasure to such a insecure place. The final decoration was a larger version of the cross he wore, wrought in iron and hung over the head of his cot.

Pushing his glasses redundantly further up his ruined nose he turned away and took a seat on his cot pulling off his boots and socks in short order. Digging in a trouser pocket Lazarus retrieved a small medication bottle, which he promptly uncapped; a pair of round blue pills fell into his gloved hand.

Tossing his jacket onto the desk chair he swallowed the pills dry. As drowsiness began to overtake him he laid back on the bare cot, removing his hat to rest on his chest. In a matter of moments John Lazarus succumbed to a black, dreamless, sleep.

* * *

The Professor's study was a place of scholarly airs, but also managed to be relatively unimposing; much like the man himself, truth be told. The walls were either lined with books covering a variety of subjects, mostly physical sciences, sociology, psychology, and a number of biographies of 20th century figures. Where it was bare of books the room displayed tasteful works of art from Europe and a smattering of African artifacts that spoke of the Professor's travels.

He had an almost palpable air of charisma but at the same time his expression and apparent ease did not intimidate, as one would expect. Currently the wheelchair bound mutant was behind his desk accepting his top student's report on the mission.

"Despite my own reservations I decided it was best to withdraw along with Logan rather than face a potential confrontation. I am so sorry Professor, if we had been a bit quicker," Jean shifted from a formal tone and stance to apologetic and a bit remorseful.

"Jean please, you have nothing to apologize for," the Professor silenced her with a raised hand and a kind smile.

"You did everything according to protocol. There are times when it is better to accept a minor setback than to gamble on achieving the objective. Perhaps it is for the best this happened under such manageable circumstances so you could learn from it," Professor Xavier explained. Jean looked to the two instructors, Ororo Monroe standing to the left of the desk and Wolverine leaning next to a window overlooking the front yard, as if for confirmation. The older woman gave a slight smile acknowledging Grey's concern while Logan true to form just briefly meet her gaze before breaking the contact.

"Your written report can wait till tomorrow, as I recall you have a test in the morning," Xavier reminded her. Relieved that her failure was forgiven Jean gave a warm nod to her mentor before withdrawing from the study. Nearly a minute after the door latched behind Miss Grey the warmth vanished from Professor Xavier's face, replaced with a stern and troubled set. The atmosphere becoming far more poignant he turned to regard the grizzled Canadian leaning on his wall.

"Was Mystique alone Logan?" he asked.

"Yep, unless you count lard boy. We swung by the Brotherhood House on our way back, Lazarus' scent is all over it," Logan confirmed. Wolverine walked over to the desk and leaned over it to look at the Professor.

"I thought that whack job was exiled to Britain after all that trouble on Shikoku," he commented.

"True, I am surprised Magneto would lift his exile. Though I have reason to believe he has continued his Latin American enterprises either from the UK or his lieutenants have been operating autonomously. Either way his presence in Bayville is most troubling. Given his record with students the Society must either have new reason to trust him or they are hoping he will provoke matters," Xavier mused. The sole female instructor seemed troubled by the discussion and finally spoke up.

"Charles, I have little experience with Mr. Lazarus, even before the schism we didn't really work in the same circles. As I recall he was the Andean Branch Director and an expert in recruitment. He did once tell me he was only a B class mutant. Is he really so dangerous?" Storm interjected.

"Ororo, John D. Lazarus is only a B class mutant, but his threat is not his power. His mind and personality are the reason we need to be wary. He is a delusional man who believes he possesses a heavenly mandate that justifies his questionable actions in promoting mutant supremacism. Unfortunately he is highly intelligent and experienced, thus he conceals his mental illness so as to not put off his early recruits. He is a fanatic who pretends to be reasonable in order to manipulate people and situations to his benefit. By the time he reveals his true nature his followers are too wrapped up in his indoctrination to see him for what he is. I knew when Magneto brought him into the Society that a parting of ways was inevitable.

"I doubt there is immediate danger, Magneto holds his leash and he seems to be planning something. Still with him and Mystique in Bayville the balance of power could be shifting. Make sure to heighten security measures here, and at the high school. Inform the students that a briefing will be held immediately after their classes tomorrow. They need to know the stakes have been raised." Xavier commanded.

* * *

Whosoever invented the alarm clock should be hung from the neck until dead. And if they were already dead they should be dug up and kicked around a bit for the sake of spite.

Despite a concerted effort to remain unconscious Rogue found herself awake enough to start feeling for the buzzing device on her nightstand. At last locating the fiendish device she struck down on it with the righteous fury of a roused night owl. Her fantasies of returning to blissful slumber were regretfully dismissed as she recalled their sadistic keeper flipping her out of bed when he caught her still asleep.

Grumbling incoherent threats to no one in particular, the young lady left the warm embrace of her bed for the cold cruel morning air to journey to the bathroom.

* * *

The Beast Man and other Evil Warriors littered the ground defeated but He-Man remained vigilant regarding the cowled figure enthroned before him.

"Your evil reign ends now Skeletor! There is no one left for you to hide behind," the blonde hero declared. The skull faced fiend cackled as he rose from his throne, a silver cross shining against his blue skin.

"It would seem you have been training hard He-Man; but I wonder are you prepared to face… the math test?!" Skeketor laughed. The hero gasped in shock he had completely forgotten about the math test, he hadn't studied at all! He plopped down in front of the desk sweating bullets as Skeletor dropped an enormous pile of papers atop it.

"You have twenty minutes to finish, and you cannot show your work," the villain proclaimed wringing his gloved hands. The brawny hero could only howl in despair as he realized the test was written in Spanish.

"And don't forget to brush your teeth; proper hygiene is VITAL!" Skeletor screamed as he shoved a toothbrush into his foe's mouth.

"PRPUPH HIBEAM IB! Huh?" Todd Tolansky exclaimed around his toothbrush. He realized he was staring at himself in the upstairs bathroom mirror, apparently brushing his teeth in his sleep.

"He's in my dreams now? No way this can be good," Toad moaned. A shrill growl tore through the fuzz in his head, further confusing him. Turning his head in the direction of what his addled mind concluded to be an angry cat he found dreams were the least of his worries. For only a few short steps away Rogue sat atop the toilet clearly in the process of using it, and currently she seemed to be trying to strangle him with her eyes.

"Ah crap," the lad whimpered.

**_A Short Time Later:_**

"You gave him a swirly?" Lazarus queried folding and putting down the newspaper. The Brotherhood had gathered around the kitchen table, Alvars already eating a bowl of cereal, while Rogue and Toad stood across from the seated administrator. They could not help but notice a tall fat boy with a blonde Mohawk standing off to the side in overalls, but Lazarus had demanded answers after the commotion upstairs.

"He deserved it, little pervert," Rogue growled, her accent flavoring the insult.

"I was sleepwalking! I didn't even see anything! And you dunked me in your crap!" Toad hollered indignantly. The boy was practically shaking his fist at the too pale Goth while she merely crossed her arms and glared daggers at him. Lance didn't even bother to hide his snicker as he poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"Did you really?" Lazarus sighed.

"Nah, it was just piss," Rogue answered not taking her eyes from the object of her rage.

"Well that's not so bad, but why didn't you just lock the door?" Lazarus asked. For a moment all was silent.

* * *

Bayville High School was bustling with the morning rush. Some students rushed about with half an eye on notes, others socialized with their peers before being hurled into their day, and the rare early arrival sought to catch some final z's before being drawn into the educational system's embrace. As ever gossip ruled among most and in the person of two standout students it received a hearty injection to the arm.

"How, oh how, did it come to this?" Rogue wondered in her mind. She had always known life was unfair, since the day she realized that she would never be able to run and lay under the sun like others did without even thinking about it. Being hunted by freaks in costumes had driven the point home. And the hits kept on coming when she was forced to share living space with a punk, a loser pervert, and a scarred sadist. And now she had to play chaperone to a morbidly obese red neck whose haircut made her bottom five.

Trying not to think of the rumors that would spring up she recalled how Lazarus had introduced Dukes and his powers before dropping the bomb. How had he put it:

"It's not that you are most qualified for easing Mr. Dukes into Bayville. Actually the truth is that of you're the least unqualified next to Tolansky and Rapunzel, congratulations," the old mutant had grinned. God, she hated it when he grinned, his face was ugly enough normally.

"So, uh, that blue lady said she was the boss. But Mr. Lazarus said he was in charge. So which one should I listen to?" Dukes asked uncertainly. Rogue turned to regard the obese boy in overalls, he stuck out in the preppy school worse than her, and now she was supposed to tell him what he should have already figured out? Yes children, life is never fair.

Dukes in his life had received a number of "go away and die" looks, and most of them were from the opposite sex. In his calmer moments he would concede a number of those incidents were warranted, but in this case he was just irritated. He saw his question as reasonable, while he did not know the phrase hierarchy he understood that the higher up a person was the more you should take them seriously. But if all he was going to get from this Goth chick was unprovoked anger, "fuck it," he thought.

"Listen, I can find my own way if you have somewhere else to be," Fred told her. He almost crumpled the schedule in his hand at the way she perked up; she didn't have to act like she had won a prize!

"Right then, see ya large boy," she chirped before swiftly dashing into another hallway. Dukes frowned after her; with her accent he couldn't tell if she called him large boy or lard boy. The sound of a warning bell derailed his slow thought process as he glanced down at his schedule.

The names and number meaningless to him he wondered if maybe he should not have put up with the Goth a bit longer.

* * *

Fate was a woman; classic legends said it and she was inclined to agree. No man could ever possess the combination of compassion and sadism that lead to her current circumstances. Namely her partner for drama class, Scott Summers, alias Cyclops and, according to Blight, a junior officer of the X-Men.

Listening to him butcher the lines she couldn't help but shake her head. It's not that he was stupid, far from it; he just lacked the thespian sparked, completely and utterly.

"Summers you sound like you," Rogue sighed. She looked up from her script in time to see him lift an eyebrow at her statement. She conceded it was not one of her best lines.

The two were at a fairly off track spot, a table with shade, at Rogue's insistence. Part of her screamed that being even a little alone with an X-Man was stupid, but she felt she could safely ignore it. After all his power was not exactly subtle for a place like this, and besides she pegged him for a soldier boy not some kind of ninja.

Rogue realized she must have zoned out when she didn't catch what Summers said to her. Crap, she thought, the last thing she needed was to get a crush on the enemy.

"Sorry, what?" Rogue responded.

"Who should I sound like," Summers repeated. His face held an easy smile; the X-Man seemed to take her zoning out and criticism in stride. She knew Toad and Avalanche wouldn't.

"Acting is about becoming someone else. The actor tries to become the character, think about how your character would say the lines," Rogue advised. Scott nodded considering her words. Just as Rogue was about to continue with her own lines a popping sound broke through the calm and she found herself coughing smoke.

"Kurt?!" Cyclops exclaimed. Sure enough, Rogue clearly saw the German mutant from last time crouched on the table, and he looked quite anxious.

"Bad news mein freund. The Brotherhood's noob made off with Jean," the German told him. Rogue was impressed and unnerved watching the too uptight but decent enough teenager clamp up and become a very serious and angry man.

"Jean's been kidnapped? Where is she, we have to save her," Cyclops declared, seizing his teammate by the collar.

"Easy on the fuzzy dude man, Logan is on the case. He sent me here to collect you," Wagner hastily amended. The words along with the smaller boys waving arms seemed to restore a portion of Summers' calm as he released his grip on his comrade. Though now his attention turned to Rogue. Despite the shades she knew he was glaring daggers at her, worse actually considering the eyes behind those glasses.

"Do you know anything about this?!" he demanded. The hostility was unveiled, her instincts reaffirmed; coming here with him had been a bad idea, they could grab her and teleport her easily if they wanted.

"It's news to me," she answered, "and even if I knew I wouldn't tell you." Feeling the need to reinforce her self-image she threw in that last comment. Summers locked gaze with her and for a moment she thought her might actually blast her.

"Never mind her, ve need to get back," Kurt interrupted. Reminded of the urgency Scott turned back to the teleporter and took an offered hand before the two vanished in a puff of smoke.

Despite herself Rogue breathed a sigh of relief. Though her relief was short lived, as she was quick to realize the situation was no less serious. Rifling through her backpack soon produced a thick and ugly black cell phone. Lazarus had given one to each of them and said for Brotherhood business to call him only on these "secure cells". As the phone started to ring on the other end she wondered if she might have been a bit hasty.

"What is it Rogue?" Lazarus spoke over the phone. His usual casualness or intensity was absent; something else was lurking between his words.

"The fat guy ran off with Jean Grey, and the X-Men are setting to track him down," Rogue told him quickly.

"… I see. And you let Mr. Dukes perform such rash actions because?" Lazarus inquired. Rogue did not like the direction this was going.

"Uh, we split up, I just heard about it when the elf popped in to grab Scott," Rogue confessed.

"Scott is it? Well no fixing a tipped tankard, follow them and secure Dukes. This could get quite serious, so I want you to steer clear of the Wolverine. I will be calling you with more directions," Lazarus told her.

"They puffed out of here. How am I supposed to follow them?" Rogue demanded.

"Think of something, and we will discuss your dereliction of duty later," Lazarus declared before hanging up. Growling, Rogue put the ugly phone into a pocket and wondered were someone like Dukes would even take a hostage.

* * *

Scott nailed Dukes with a blast the moment he saw him. Striking first and without warning wasn't how he liked to operate, but circumstances have been known to drive honorable men to dishonorable acts. And threatening Jean Grey in any way was at the top of the list for things that pushed Scott Summers over the line. It was only as the obese teen picked himself up that Cyclops realized he had been carrying a gramophone; that was quite strange, he realized.

"Where is Jean?" he demanded as Wolverine and the others came in behind him. Wolverine shot a dirty look at the team leader's back. While he liked the kid taking the initiative, he was getting carried away by his anxiety. Though since he was hardly a paragon of restraint Logan held his peace for the moment and hoped for a good fight.

"She's my friend! I won't let you take her away!" Dukes roared at them. The words reeked of possessiveness and ignorant sincerity; it was quite off putting. He had come here fully expecting to meet a thug like Alvars or a creep like Toad, but this sounded crazy. The sort of crazy from movies more frightening than a simple slasher flick.

The unpleasant trail of thought was halted as training kicked in. Duke had picked up the rotting debris and hurled it at them like it was nothing. The X-Men scattered save for Logan who went low and quick under the projectile charging Dukes.

Recovering, Scott saw Wolverine get some good hits in, but as advertised Dukes was nothing if not durable. Deciding to lend a hand he reached up to disengage the visor only to realize something. He had no idea were Jean was. His powers were dangerous under the best of circumstances, and right now the propane tank incident loomed large. If he missed or Dukes dodged, his blast could go through a wall and waste Jean!

Storm and Wolverine had pounded environmental awareness in his head. The place was long abandoned, so likely there was nothing more flammable than wood and such around. But if he started blasting holes the whole place could come down. Jean could handle herself, but she might be unconscious.

"Kitty! I need you to find Jean now!" Scott called out. Shadowcat's attention snapped to him; she had tried to get close to help Mr. Logan and Kurt with the creep, but all she could really do was phase through the stuff the guy was throwing. The new orders were quite welcome as she dashed off through a wall.

Dukes finally got a hit with the full force of his backhand sending Wolverine flying, landing with enough force to shatter the crates he hit. Knowing he needed to get in it Scott charged, hand on the switch to get a sure and strong hit in. Dukes saw him coming unfortunately and threw what was once a chair at him.

Instinctively, Cyclops let out a small burst to obliterate the projectile, and made the mistake of closing the visor immediately after. Dukes was no genius, but it doesn't take one to know how to follow through. He was fast enough with his weight became momentum, and Scott distracted by the chair did not realize the larger teen was bearing down on him until a massive hand closed over his shoulder.

Dukes lifted him up into the air; his face full of undiluted hatred for the pretty boy who to him embodied what life had denied him. Pulling his arm back and taking a crude stance Dukes catapulted Scott through the air with all the force he could muster.

It was like the other mutant was trying to crush his shoulder; he had not even realized the intent till he was flying. He felt and heard the glass break against his back, oddly enough he recalled being told the uniform protected against cuts from weaker edges like glass. Scott hit the ground hard; luckily it was just hard soil and rocks rather than something more solid. Still his back and right arm had fire running though them, though it was passing already. Like the shoulder, nothing broken, just plenty of bruises for later. No time to whine, he thought, need to get back in there.

To his credit he actually heard the new arrival approach. Whether it was a virtue or vice that he did not get ready to blast whoever was coming is up for debate. His hands remained on the ground as he twisted to see who was joining the party.

Rogue was already pulling off a black glove as she kneeled down next to the fallen Scott.

"Looks like you're pretty banged up, mind if I tag in?" she asked innocently. Rogue did feel a bit guilty at his confused expression as her hand brushed his cheek; she felt a surge of heat travel up her arm and fill her body, and he fell back to the ground. A Girl Scout she was not, but hitting someone while they were down was not something she liked; she decided to chalk it up as payback for getting in her face earlier.

* * *

Fred Dukes was seeing red, not literally of course but the analogy was especially apt considering the root of his rage and this conflict.

A certain amount of sense returned while he grinned at the broken glass nearly a story up. Among the many things this young man hated, pretty boys ranked high on the long list. Granted Scott was hardly the encyclopedia entry for that category, but Dukes was not to be troubled with letting reality color his opinions. Smitten as he was with Jean he instantly hated Cyclops upon realizing he was in the spot he himself coveted. Thus a fair amount of projection had been ascribed to the young man with the ruby shades. So by extension his seeming victory over his object of hatred generated a glee that blunted his rage.

As he would soon be told in a battlefield there was no place for enjoying a victory. For now he would experience that truth, courtesy of a recently liberated and very upset red head.

Fred had no real knowledge of karmic retribution, and even if he did his being picked up and tossed into the air would probably not be seen as connected to Scott's recent departure.

As it was the act did nothing to hurt him, only delaying him as he struggled to untangle himself from the remains of the crates he had landed in. When he saw who was responsible.

"I thought you were my friend!" he bellowed at Jean. She stood there among her fellow X-Men, perfectly beautiful, her face holding an expression of pity and disgust.

"I told you, that's something you can't force," she answered evenly.

"Enough of this shit," someone interrupted. Dukes was the only one to recognize Rogue's voice as she entered through a side entrance. Both Dukes and the X-Men tensed, Dukes from dislike, and the X-Men fearing the worst from another Brotherhood member arriving.

"Fat boy, this is done, you're coming back with me," Rogue declared. As she continued to advance the X-Men relaxed, with the exception of Wolverine. Dukes on the other hand gave his undivided attention, and anger, to the new arrival.

"You don't tell me what to do," he growled.

"Didn't they tell you what my power is?" Rogue asked. As she drew near Dukes crossed his arms and grinned down at her.

"No, I didn't ask cause I don't care. Nothing hurts me I'm…" his mind in a moment of clarity conjured a movie that had terrified him as a child, a creature invincible and unstoppable, "I'm the Blob!" he declared to all present.

Rogue seemed unimpressed; reaching out she grabbed a piece of Blob's meaty arms. As she felt power surge through her veins Dukes saw stars, and staggered back. His confusion at this turn of events was compounded as Rogue grabbed handfuls of his flesh and overalls, hoisting him over her.

To the rookie X-Men it was an awesome and unnerving sight, the monstrously massive boy being held aloft by a thin girl less than a third his size. Wolverine for his part was more concerned with the devilish glee that split her face in a grin for several seconds.

"My power is yours! And I can take MORE than one!" Rogue shouted. Throwing her head back, her eyes glowed like crimson suns covering Dukes in their light. Without further word or warning she let loose the undiluted fury of her gaze. For just a moment it lifted Dukes just out of her loosened grip, pushing his belly back into his frame. The moment passed and he soared upward on the energy screaming, the roof above exploding outward as he tore through it like an overgrown cannonball.

Rogue picked herself up off the floor as bits of debris fell around her. The effort of launching the fat creep had left her on her ass, and now she realized she was the center of attention to the assembling X-Men. Wolverine seemed to be sizing her up while the students were just a bit confused and relieved.

"What are you looking at? I was ordered to end this so I did, don't read into it," she declared. As she made her way to the entrance she was surprised to see a revived Cyclops enter with none other than Blight escorting the slightly dazed teen.

"Well that went as well as can be expected. No serious injuries?" the scarred man asked. Scott's head seemed to be rapidly clearing as he rushed over to confirm Jean was alright. Rogue didn't know what irritated her more, Scott's seeming one-track mind or that Lazarus only showed up when the work was done. Seeming to pluck her thoughts from the air he ended his surveying of the scene to regard her like a hawk would a mouse.

"In that case let's put this nasty business behind us. Rogue, Avalanche is waiting back on the road with the jeep. I will meet you back at the house once I have Dukes sorted," Lazarus ordered. He didn't say anything about her punishment for letting Dukes run off, but she was certain the fireworks show didn't put her off the hook.

"He's calling himself the Blob now," was the only response she could muster before making off. She overheard Lazarus exchange some words with the X-Men as she left.

"I know it's rude to pop in without an introduction, but I have a rookie to collect. See you around, X-men," he told them. It was perfectly polite but something in his tone gave her the impression he was laughing.

* * *

Laughter was first. On the far too long list of things Fred Dukes, now also called Blob, could not stand laughter topped the list. Whenever that sound reached his ears he was overcome with dread that he was the object of ridicule. This knee jerk reaction was more telling than any background check on the life he had lead.

It was like Hell, the desolate and rotting landscape surrounding him and the air filled with the sound he hated. He had lost, he pushed and the world knocked him down; again.

"STOP LAUGHING!" he bellowed to the flock of gulls. He hurled pieces of cars at them, and meager handfuls of trash, no thought to the act beyond silencing them.

After a measure it was effective, the birds taking to the air and settling a distance from the raging mutant, but he still heard them laughing. So he continued attacking birds that were not there, till at last he let himself fall to his back, sweat running slick from his brow.

"Worked it out of your system then?" A voice called out. Not so much a question as a statement disguised as a query. From some shadow John Lazarus emerged and made his way down to the exhausted Dukes. His presence was quite surreal; whereas the filthy and exhausted Dukes fit with the surroundings the impeccable scarred gentleman seemed a misplaced bit of the world.

"You caused quite the ruckus. I would applaud your improvisation, if it weren't so dangerous and slightly creepy. May I ask why?" Blight inquired. He squatted down to Blob's left, reminding the exhausted teen a bit of a bird with his posture.

"I thought she was my friend," Dukes stated. Even to him the words rang hollow, after these tantrums he always felt hollow, empty.

"Perhaps, but I think any bridge has been burned. Kidnappings tend to do that. And please don't say it was a date, I have dealt with this kind of thing before so why don't we skip some steps and get to resolution a bit quicker?" Lazarus sighed. Dukes was not sure what the disfigured man was talking about, but he understood the first bit. He had blown it, as usual.

"Ah the classic butterfly in hand dilemma; too light and it takes flight, but too tight and you crush it. It may be for the best though; of all the X-Men she is the one you do not want close. I imagine her goal was to use her feminine wiles to turn your coat," Lazarus stated darkly. Blob pulled himself up into a sitting position; he was still a bit sore, but as always uninjured.

"By the way I like the new handle, the Blob. Take the very thing society uses to degrade you and make it a badge worn with pride. And perhaps with honor in time?" Blight smiled at Dukes. Standing amidst the filth Lazarus extended his hand to Dukes. The permanently overweight young man eyed the gloved hand suspiciously, he could not recall how many times he had been given such a gesture only for it to be pulled back with a laugh. To his mind Jean had done just that.

The hand did not pull away as Lazarus helped him back to his feet. Teacher and student walked back to the Brotherhood house in a calm silence.

* * *

"What do you mean we can't do anything?!" Scott shouted, stepping up to the Professor's desk. The group was in the debriefing room in the underground complex, where the Professor had just dropped quite the bombshell. Though his words did not unnerve the X-Men nearly so much as the Boy Scout Scott Summers blowing up at the Professor. For his part the Professor remained calm, steeping his hand and giving a sigh full of empathy and irritation.

"I understand your desire to see Mr. Dukes punished for his actions, but we simply cannot bring the police or any law enforcement into the matter. Our testimony would have to be tailored to maintain mutant secrecy and even then the risk of an investigation and media attention revealing the truth would be high. I am afraid we must let this act pass and can do nothing but attempt to ensure there are no relapses," the Professor explained. Scott had collected himself and nodded in agreement, his expression was sorrowful, but he was interrupted as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"No need to apologize Scott. As I said your frustration is understandable. Instead you should focus on the fact that you were able to rescue Jean safely."

"It wasn't us. Rogue was the one that finally took Blob down. She said she was under orders to help us or something," Scott admitted.

"Like even though she is part of tyhe creepy dark side, I think we owe her one," Kitty admitted. The Professor regarded her with a slihtly raised eyebrow for a moment.

"I want to know who was the scarred guy that woke you up? He seemed to be in charge," Kurt said to Scott.

"A very dangerous man," Xavier himself answered the question. Drawing their attention to wall mounted screen he brought up a pair of photos showing the mysterious Mutant and what looked like a profile:

_Gender: Male_

_Name: Lazarus, John D. (changed from John Doe in 1981)_

_Codename: Blight_

_Born: 7/17/1918_

_Mutant Classification: B_

_Procedure: Treat with Extreme caution. Avoid close quarters combat at all costs._

_Power: Subject generates field around hands that breaks down solid matter into sand like substance. Density affects the rate of breakdown; adamantium has proven to be impervious to the effect._

_Possibly limited regeneration._

_Nationality: Australian_

_Birthplace: Perth, Western Australia_

_Allegiance: Hidden Society, High Ranking; CLDG_

_Recruitment Possibility: Undesirable, immediate high security incarceration recommended, or termination._

* * *

The morning came too soon for Rogue. Though never a morning person her eyes still tingled from their brief stint as laser canons. Still, she wasn't about to complain or dilly-dally, Lazarus had yet to give out his judgment and she was not going to throw fuel on the fire.

Exiting her room to lay claim to the bathroom she was irritated but not surprised to find Blight taking up the doorway. Minus a coat he was already picture perfect, well except for the scars of course.

"_When did he get up? Does he even sleep?_" Rogue wondered.

"I have decided that as punishment for gross dereliction of duty and violating a direct order, that you are going to cut the front lawn after school," Lazarus darkly declared.

"What?" Not at all what she expected. Granted yard work was not her favorite thing, sun and all, but much lighter than what she expected.

Then the old mutant grinned and she knew the other shoe was going to drop, somehow. Taking one of her gloved hands in his he pressed something into her palm. Puzzled she looked down at what he had given her… a pair of safety scissors.

"Make sure to giver it a nice even trim, or you'll have to touch it up later," Lazarus told her matter-of-factly. Business apparently settled he turned to go as realization struck Rogue and her expression became one of horror.

"You're joking!" Rogue accused.

"No," Lazarus answered as he reached the stairs.

* * *

**_Just Past Noon, Downtown Bayville_**

Lazarus' arrival in the coffee shop as usual produced some raised eyebrows and low murmuring. Accustomed as he was to his appearance inciting a reaction he would have been more alarmed by casual dismissal. Surveying the establishment he repressed a sneer; a coffee shop. Heh, this sure as hell was not a Starbucks, he thought. It reminded him more of the gentlemen's clubs he had frequented in his youth across the pond; the place was more casual than those venerable establishments, but behind the tip of the hat to liberal sensibilities it seemed to whisper no admission unless you have money or some cause worth higher consideration.

Still, it suited the needs of the day, and soon enough a server came forward to see if he needed help. He gave the Professor's name and saw hidden tension unravel in the young man. Clearly the thought was that as the guest of a respectable regular he would not be causing any trouble. In short order the mutant priest was shown to a back corner table, well isolated from the handful of other patrons. It looked a bit off in the set up; Lazarus concluded the normally near tables had been removed for the sake of privacy in this public setting.

Affecting a grin Lazarus greeted one of the two men seated at the table.

"Sir Logan, a pleasure to see you again. As ever you are looking marvelous for your age. I trust life has been treating you well?" Lazarus greeted, extending a hand to Wolverine. The Canadian mutant glanced at the potentially lethal appendage and accepted the greeting with a nod. Unperturbed Lazarus turned his attention to the professor sitting opposite Logan.

"Xavier," Blight stated. Without further ceremony he pulled out the chair at the head of the table and took a seat.

"A cup of your cheapest coffee with two spoons of cream please," Lazarus told the server. Now alone the three mutants set about business.

"Xavier, I want you to know I had nothing to do with Dukes' actions. From what I gather his abduction of Miss Grey was purely spur of the moment. Rogue was supposed to be attending to him and establishing the boundaries between our groups. Rest assured they are both facing punishment for gross misconduct and negligence of duties," Lazarus told Xavier.

"I thought as much regarding Mr. Dukes. You are many things John, but sloppy is not one of them. If you wanted Jean you would have used a professional to abduct her or try and talk her onto your side of the divide," Xavier responded. Lazarus nodded his head not denying the statement as the server returned with his coffee. He began to sip the steaming liquid as the Professor continued.

"Though I am somewhat concerned. Rogue used excessive force to subdue her teammate; we are fortunate the spectacle went unnoticed," Xavier commented.

"Dukes is not exactly simple to bring down even if he is green. As for Rogue, these youngsters have a tendency to overdue things. Ah that youthful vigor! Did you with your intellectual detachment ever possess such a thing I wonder? I know I missed out with a fixation on work," Lazarus commented.

"We really are not here to reminisce," Xavier stated a hint of irritation at the burned man's antics.

"Correct you are here to figure out why I am here and to tell me to bugger off," Lazarus grinned.

"You know your insistence on propriety is one of your most annoying features. Reeks of politicking being courteous to men you would like to see fall off a plane. I prefer to say that given the chance I would send you down a long flight of stairs," Blight commented, steeping his hands. Logan growled at the lightly made threat but quieted at the Professor's raised hand. The crippled aristocrat turned an indulgent smile on the other mutant.

"One of the many things we disagree on, what you see as white lies I see as civilized discussion," Xavier explained.

"My, oh my, is that a jab edgewise to say I am uncivilized? I at the least am upfront with my subordinates as to what is expected of them. I find your deception of your students more disturbing than most of the weirdness that has accumulated around the Church," Lazarus commented.

"I do not deceive my students. Unlike you I do not try and isolate them from society to mold to a personal agenda."

"Sure, tell Logan that. You claim to be a pacifist yet you have that mansion rigged to withstand a military siege and you're training teenagers to participate in a paramilitary group. I am not one to object to some paramilitary shenanigans, but really a peacekeeping military is a bad joke under the best of circumstances. I also note none of your recruits has a mutation that lacks some kind of military application," Lazarus commented, his face split by his grin.

"A grim necessity brought about by the clear intentions of militants like you," Xavier sighed.

"So you need these X-Men to protect the Mundani from us? Do you think they are so helpless? Your hypocrisy deepens the deeper I go it would seem," Lazarus wondered aloud.

"Someone needs to keep the conflict you and Erik are determined to create from degenerating into a race war. But returning to our original topics, I am surprised to see you in Bayville. I was under the impression after what happened with Daigoro you were sent to the United Kingdom for medical treatment and appointed director of that branch," Xavier calmly pointed out.

"I was wondering when you would bring that up. I take full responsibility for what happened on Shikoku. Daigoro's choices were his own, but the problem got out of hand because of my willful blindness. I took my punishment and exile from my followers without complaint," Lazarus replied sternly. Though the glasses he wore turned his eyes to coal pits Xavier and Wolverine both were certain they narrowed.

"Punishment, as if Lord Magneto could have done worse to me. You're still so damn young Xavier; I have found my conscience to be the worst punishment. I killed Daigoro myself; I put this hand through his chest and ripped out his heart as he stabbed me in the gut over and over again. The reason I was able to get close enough, was solely because he was certain I would not be able to do it. Even as he died his eyes were filled with disbelief that I was capable of ending his life. He should have known better, wicked as he was the apple does not fall far from the tree," Lazarus hissed.

Xavier meet the gaze of the old mutant evenly while Logan tensed in case Lazarus was about to lose his temper.

"She must have a great deal of potential, Rogue I mean. Erik is giving you a second chance only since she arrived, so it is of vital importance that she be on the level of a templar or acolyte," Xavier observed. The words elicited a visible response with Lazarus breaking the staring contest and grinning, the oppressive atmosphere that ha been gathering rapidly fading with his mood.

"You have no idea Xavier," Blight snickered.

"Of what?" the Professor smiled.

"More than you can imagine with your narrow perspective. The coffee's gotten cold, it's time I took my leave," Lazarus stated rising from the table.

"One last thing, I know you enjoy evangelizing your cult. Could you be courteous enough to keep such propaganda away from my students?" Xavier asked.

"I would rather see the gap closed than Nephilimon fighting Nephilimon, so if there is a chance to bring your X-Men around I will take it. Besides given the chance you would love to move the Brotherhood into your camp. Let's refrain from making promises we can't keep," Lazarus answered evenly looking over the Professor's head. For his part the Professor offered no denial or anger at the answer he received.

"A pleasure as always Sir Logan to share a table with you. I remind you that Lord Magneto's offer and my own invitation still stand," Lazarus tipped his hat to the Canadian before pivoting on his heel and striding out of the shop.

* * *

**1). **First Stanza from the magnificent poem, "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came" by Robert Browning

**Author's Note:**

_If it is not one thing it is another. My muse finally starts to flow freely again with lots of ideas and inspiration. Then RL steps up its efforts, one particular sad event comes top mind. And I Am unable to even effectively channel the frustration into writing with Whisper going silent and Nocturne's computer going kaput. Thus with no one to discuss or bounce ideas off of the process stagnates like water in a junkyard tire._

_Many thanks to Zim'smostloyalservant, reliable and prompt in betaing my work._

_**Please review**, I feel the chapter is missing something so if you have complaints I want to hear it so as to improve!_


	6. Interlude II

_**Disclaimer**_: _Yes, maybe, no; seems I still do not own X-Men Evolution._

_Thanks to the ever reliable Zim'smostloyalservant for serving as my beta._

* * *

Interlude II

**Tested**

_Somewhere in Bolivia, 1988:_

The view was majestic, some would even call it Olympian; despite a history of turmoil the land spread out before him serene and pristine in spite of the endless folly of humanity. John Lazarus stood at the edge of the cliff taking in the scenery of the Highlands, black coat flapping about him in the wind seemingly ignorant of the day's heat. From a battered jeep parked nearby a youth approached, his stride uncertain as he drew closer to the scarred mutant.

"So we are out here for training?" the boy asked hesitantly. The two were marked in contrast, from the boy's own light and inelegant clothing to his anxious posture. His growth spurt had hit but not quite run its course, jeans and sweat stained red shirt hanging loose on his frame, sandy blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail to his shoulders, and his accent spoke of Yankee origin.

"Not quite, come here," Lazarus stated. He stepped back from the edge just as he motioned the boy forward. The boy hesitated, but knew it was best to go along with what the old man said. He had by inclination little respect or fear for the elderly, but the throb of his left ribs reminded him Lazarus might be old but was far from a typical elder. Though he knew Lazarus was fast and strong he was still shocked as he stepped up only to be seized by the neck and lifted off the ground by the older mutant in one smooth motion. If not for the speed and the vice quality of the grip one could almost call the action casual. Even worse was the realization that he was being held over the cliff.

"This is not training Christopher, this is your final exam, pass or fail," Lazarus replied grimly. His tone was cold and unfeeling, unlike any that Chris had heard from him; it occurred to him that this was the voice that even the adults feared.

"Wait, you're some kind of priest, isn't patience a virtue or something?" Chris choked through the grip.

"I have been patient for a year, trying to coax your power out. There is nothing wrong with you physically we have confirmed that. Furthermore you admitted under psy-influence to having used it fully in the past. The only obstacle holding you back is your mind, your thrice-damned issues with your mother.

"No more excuses. You will either return to this ground Brethren, or die below an outsider; the choice is yours." Lazarus explained in that same horrid tone.

"No! They saw us drive off, the whole compound will know you killed me!" Chris croaked. The youth clawed at the hand lodged around his throat, perhaps failing to realize breaking free would be the same as his captor letting him go.

"You think you would be the first to disappear? Many of them were in worse places than where I found you; they would not only lie but also be willfully blind for my sake. Even poor Carmen knows not to ask when her friends vanish."

"Now chose Christopher Easton, live or die!" Lazarus shouted, releasing his grip.

Lazarus stood at the edge gazing intently into the horizon as Christopher screamed in descent, not looking down. The scarred man still did not waver as the screams stopped. But he did grin as the youth rose into his line of sight, the air about him rippling like petroleum under a light, his face twisted into a mask of fury.

"YOU FUCKIN BASTARD!" Chris screamed, launching himself at Lazarus. The tackle knocked the mutant priest onto his back. Chris, kneeling, on his stomach got in two blows to his face before Lazarus caught his right hook in one hand and his neck in the other.

"I give you two for the scare, but no more. Kindly release me and take another look over the cliff, or does this outing have to be a waste of time?" Lazarus stated calmly. He grinned, looking no worse for wear, and the implication of his lethal grip persuaded Christopher to rise off of him.

His heart started to slow down for the first time as Lazarus released him. Keeping a wary eye on the old mutant, who seemed content to lie down on the rocky ground, he carefully peered over the side of the cliff. His eyes widened at the sight of a shirtless man with a bare swollen head and a pair of the reddest, bushiest eyebrow you have ever seen.

"Why is Hilton down there?" Christopher asked dejectedly. For him this day just kept pulling the rug out from under him.

"Our resident telekinetic was there to catch you in the event of epic failure," Lazarus answered from his spot on the ground.

"What! ? So I wasn't! ? What the fuck man! ?" Chris shouted, the seemingly relaxed pose irritating him greatly.

"Oh the danger was very real; he gave me only a 40% chance that he could safely catch you after you passed the mark I set. I am a teacher, not your friend, and some lessons are not only worth but require a risk," Lazarus explained, cushioning his head with his gloved hands.

"So that bit about people disappearing and them not caring was BS?" Chris sighed, feeling relieved as the situation came back to planet Earth. For his own peace of mind he decided to ignore that forty percent line.

"Perhaps. This is no game Easton. Our enemies play for keeps and so do we. And it is 'we' now, as of today you return to them as Brethren," Lazarus smiled, rising to his feet. He walked over to the young man, his face holding a genuine smile. Reaching into his coat he withdrew a small silver cross with an X radiating from the intersection. Taking Christopher Easton's right hand he folded the fingers over the pendant.

"Today you passed a test, more will come in the days ahead. Whatever those days bring though, here and now you are one of us," John Lazarus declared proudly.

**

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**

AN:

Disappointing? Not to worry this is merely an appetizer to show I have not forgotten while the next chapter is in the works. That being said I do hope this interlude was interesting and entertaining.

_Please Read and Review._


	7. Discovery

**Disclaimer:** _No, still do not own X-Men or X-Men Evolution, if I did I would want it to be more like this but due to the need to cater to a creative tunnel vision perpetuated by corporate influence and the easily spooked masses it would be closer to OTL. Even in hypothetical situations I think I lose. John Lazarus is mine, so please use with permission. Though, I really can't see someone stealing my meager work._

_THANKS: To _Zims'mostloyalservant for serving as beta for this chapter.

ANNOUNCEMENT_: Inspired by the story "Hell Butterfly" I have decided to change the character slots as relevant to the story. Rogue will retain a spot for now because she is ultimately the main character, but the second slot will be indicative of who else is of importance in each chapter. _

Also for this chapter_: Italics indicate the words are being read by a character. Except of course for the scene captions._

**

* * *

**

**Discovery**

John Lazarus sat at his desk looking over the files on the four students now under his charge. He had added his own penciled in notes and observations and now attempted to concoct a course of action.

Tolansky seemed promising, his abilities were versatile and he seemed surprisingly mellow and adaptive. While he wasn't close to any of his comrades he also did not have an enmity with any of them. Considering Rogue's actions that spoke well of his tolerance. The key was getting the lad to believe in himself beyond a put up front of bravado.

Alvars was no mystery, a would-be alpha dog. He would not cause trouble when it was clear he was outmatched, but he continued to aspire towards taking the top spot. That ambition was a classic two-edged sword. Granted, he was not sure about how much use the quake powers could be beyond simple destruction, under other circumstances he might bench the lad to focus on the others.

Dukes was immature, overly sensitive, and had significant self image issues. Nothing major really, in his experience an active role model could remedy such things in time. The large boy was a good candidate for indoctrination, though some groundwork would have to be laid. Among that groundwork an obvious priority was to head off the hostility developing between Duke and his sole female charge.

As for Rogue herself, well that was the sticky wicket. Lazarus massaged his temples as he closed the girl's file.

He really had been away from teaching too long, he admitted. His last students were now full-fledged fighters, or otherwise performing their duties.

It wasn't that he had been negligent. It had long been his policy to emulate the Galilean model, having his students spread his teachings and training them to perpetuate those doctrines and ideals he embedded in them. Removing himself from the process had seemed a logical step when it reached the point that the students of his students were now teaching in their own right.

So these last years he had been management almost solely. Like a headmaster he looked in on the training and operations. He was no stranger and made a point to be seen and interact. But for all that he had been removed from the issues that form the student teacher relationship, his own students now saw him as a combination of leader or mentor at best or an employer at worst and he acted in those capacities.

And the inescapable fact was that he had gotten older. Time was quite kind to him and he had ample resources to force her to smile even when she wanted to scowl. But that did little for the weight of years and remembrance of tears.

These kids had potential. Rogue had the greatest potential for power but that did not diminish what the others could be. The question was could he bring that potential out, while guiding them to cast off the traits that were holding them back?

He had succeeded in doing just that dozens of times, likely over a hundred in the students he had trained himself. But the failures could not be overlooked; when you fail in training soldiers it is the students who pay the price. And sometimes it was not even limited to them – images of Shikoku rose behind his eyes.

This Brotherhood would likely be his last batch of students, events would be coming to a head in the approaching future he was certain. They were utterly naive and unprepared for what was coming. Remedying that was his job.

Well he could at least take comfort in that he was more qualified than the Harlot. Raised up by virtue of another's failures he grabbed a pad of sticky notes and stood up.

* * *

Lance Alvars was neither a night lover nor a morning person; he could take or leave most any time of day. Waking up was not something he typically enjoyed though, if asked he would tell you because it meant another cruddy day had begun. If that is not the truth of the matter, well his secrets are his own if he has any.

Regardless, like most teenagers when the alarm began to blare his first true conscious act was to reach out his hand and fumble for the device. Finding it in relatively short order, the snooze option was engaged and he rolled onto his face intending to pursue further unconsciousness. This plan was thwarted as he heard crumpling and felt something crumple against his brow.

Eyes snapping open in annoyed awareness he pulled himself up in his bed and pulled the offending item off his forehead. Revealed to be a sticky note it bore a short message, "_Return immediately after school. Meeting in training room, mandatory. –JL_"

"Didn't anyone tell that freak you leave notes on the fridge?" Avalanche griped as he crumpled the note. Fully awake now he decided he might as well make the most of it to have a more leisurely breakfast than usual.

His meager morning rituals complete he was somewhat surprised to meet Toad in the hallway; like Alvars he was the type to snooze. Walking in silence they reached the kitchen to see they had been beaten by Rogue, which was typical since Lazarus had taken to rudely awakening the Goth for sleeping in. Better her than him, Alvars thought.

The big surprise was the new guy – Blob, Alvars recalled – who seemed to have arrived some time ago and was already eating his own large breakfast. Alvars vaguely recalled him being ready before them the other day; perhaps the big guy was a morning person?

"Where's Crispy at? He owes me an explanation," Alvars asked, scanning the kitchen for the scarred mutant.

"Not here, guess he stepped out. You got notes too?" Rogue asked as she poured milk into her cereal.

"Yeah… wait, you got posted too?" Toad answered.

"Told ya, the old man left his calling cards on all of us," Rogue stated. Her first statement was directed towards Dukes; apparently they had already discussed this to some effect.

"Figures, after that stunt I might skip out just to show him some manners," Lance mused. Though thinking on it, he decided that was a bad idea, the old man was unpredictable but he consistently punished insubordination with what he called "creative sadism." Aside from Rogue's little mowing experience there was a standing threat of digging a latrine if they shirked their washroom duty.

He would be there, but he would never admit it was because he was afraid of the consequences.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High School:

Kurt skimmed through the assigned section of the English textbook. He had read the required section and it would likely just be discussed, but he had already pegged the teacher as the pop quiz type. "Hopfrog" had not really been to his taste, but then Poe was not known for his merry themes. Kurt Wagner had enough real darkness in life to not be inclined to look for it in fiction.

The classroom door opened and a woman he did not recognize entered and cleared her throat causing the as of yet unattended class to settle down.

"Kurt Wagner," she stated, her eyes coming to rest on the foreign student. Kurt straightened up, and rose to the clear summons, though he was confused. He hadn't done anything to get called out of class… this time at least.

"Whatever it was, I didn't do it," he told the woman as they traversed the halls. She turned and smiled at him, it certainly made her look better.

"You're not in trouble Mr. Wagner. Well, not with the school at any rate. A man from the State wants to talk with you on how you're adjusting here at Bayville. Sorry to pull you out of class, but he apparently is on a tight schedule and it will be quick," she assured him. Kurt frowned at this; he was under the impression the Professor bent the rules to get him here, maybe someone had caught the man's hand in the cookie jar? The office woman held open a door for him and he nodded thanks to her before entering.

"Guten tag, Herr Wagner," John Lazarus greeted him. Kurt took a step back as the door closed behind him.

"You? !" he exclaimed. Lazarus frowned at that, rapping his fingers on the mock wood table he was seated behind in the small meeting room.

"Hardly a polite greeting Herr Wagner, or has Charles actually withheld my name?" Lazarus asked.

"Vat are you doing here?" Kurt demanded, as he prepared himself to teleport back through the door.

"No need to poof, I am here to talk with you. Without the bother of certain red tape," Lazarus explained. He indicated the chair across from his spot but Nightcrawler choose to stand.

"So talk," Kurt answered. Lazarus grinned, seeming to appreciate the German's attitude.

"Well at least you're not acting the fool like you do for the others.

"I want to extend an invitation to you Herr Wagner. I find you agreeable, and I would be pleased to have you on the same side of the divide as myself," Lazarus stated, he held out his hands as if to show the gloved appendages were empty. Kurt's expression was floored; his jaw actually dropped. This guy was actually asking him to come over to the villains' side, and in this setting? Where was the showmanship, the atmosphere, the threats? It felt more like he was being sold insurance.

"Are you crazy?" Nightcrawler finally asked.

"Depends on who you ask. But the offer is real. I don't expect you to jump the gap here and now, if you did I wouldn't want you. Weather vanes are troublesome under the best of circumstances; when and if you change sides I expect it to be like tearing your own heart out," Lazarus answered calmly.

"Vhy me?" Kurt asked. This was not how he pictured meeting a real life villain; it was plainer and more disturbing.

"Because you're different from the others, and Xavier has done you a great disservice. That watch is gong to bring you a great deal of grief before you're done," Lazarus elaborated, pointing to the watch. Kurt reflexively clapped a hand over the precious device.

"Ah like Tolkien's gremlin you cling to it fiercer as time passes. Already it intoxicates you. Able to walk boldly for the first time you play the fool, drunk on society's vapors. But their acceptance is just as illusory as that form, and that which is hidden must one day be revealed for all to see.

"It's very like Charles really, it indebts you to him while making things easier for him. Typical double standard, telling you to accept yourself while showing the need to hide your shame. But letting you think you can part of this society… he can be crueler than me.

"I have worked with so many people like you, Herr Wagner. I know what to expect and thus extend an invitation that someday you may seize as your lifeline when all else falls away. But if we are destined to be enemies, that is an acceptable tragedy," Lazarus concluded. The door swung open and Storm filled the doorway, fixing a withering glare on the burned mutant.

"Well looks like that's all the time we have. Auf wiedersen, and don't forget," Lazarus smiled. Kurt made a hasty exit past storm who lingered for a moment watching the smiling Blight before she let the door close. She immediately turned to Kurt who seemed quite relieved.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, all he did vas talk. He actually asked me about changing teams; even he acted like it vasn't going to work," Kurt reported, still ruffled by the strange encounter. Ororo frowned at this development; it could just be a taunt. However, the "but" following that theory was too large for her too dismiss out of hand.

"Head back to class Kurt, we'll talk about this back at the institute. Don't tell the others about this for now," she instructed. Kurt nodded assent, but he wondered why she wanted him to keep this a secret.

* * *

_Brotherhood House:_

Lazarus was waiting for them in the basement; sitting down on a weight bench clad in his usual finery as if he had not sticky noted them and vanished for the day.

"Nice weather," he commented as they took places around the room. With the exception of Dukes they each found some piece of equipment to sit on. It was not attentiveness so much as not trusting his weight that made Dukes just cross his arms and look at the scarred man with expectation.

"This morning I entered each of your rooms and put a adhesive note on you. Had I been so inclined I could have killed you in at least a dozen ways and the sun would have risen on a dead brotherhood," Lazarus declared.

"Your situational awareness is worse than I expected. Though I suppose my standards may have become a little too high over the years. Still, your current level of awareness is unacceptable; we will be working to remedy that.

"Constant vigilance is the key to survival on and off the battlefield. This house cannot be considered truly secure yet and beyond these walls it would be best to always expect attack. Starting on Monday I will begin your situational awareness training," he concluded.

"So why tell us now, and not say Sunday?" Toad asked.

"More on the agenda. It is high time you started to further explore your powers. You three are on the right track with normal physical training and Mr. Dukes showed his mettle already. Therefore it is time to start power specific training."

"Now you're talking," Alvars grinned. Learning how to rumble harder was something he could get enthused on.

"Am I? If you say so. Sessions will be one on with assignments after; Tolansky you're up first, the rest of you do homework or something.

"Oh wait I almost forgot. We have a new addition to the Brotherhood house," Lazarus declared. That got them all turning to look as he pulled a box out from under his seat. A box with several holes in it that he opened to pull a cat out of.

The gray with black striped feline had apparently been sleeping, and yowled at being disturbed and held aloft as Lazarus set it on the floor in front of him.

"Meet Ludwig, the house cat you shall feed, clean up after, brush, etc. She is a group responsibility and if any of you fail you shall pay dearly," Lazarus cheerfully announced.

"It's a girl?" Rogue asked, eyeing the cat, which had started to lick itself.

"Correct," Lazarus answered.

"You named a girl cat 'Ludwig'?" she pressed.

"Also correct. Now unless you have further questions I have a session with Mr. Tolansky," Lazarus told her, waving his hand in a dismissing manner.

* * *

"Tolansky, that's enough for today," Lazarus announced. Walking to the bench he used the tip of the broom handle to pick up the green towel there and, in the same motion, toss it to his student. Wiping sweat off his brow Toad did not notice the towel until it fell over his head.

"Please try and improve your awareness Tolansky," Lazarus sighed.

"Yo man I'm tired here. You just gave me the business and you expect me to be noticing everything?" Toad whined. He pulled the towel off his head and began to pat his face dry, cringing as he felt the bruise rising on his jaw.

"I do, that is one of the goals I have for the lot of you. Awareness of your surroundings and what people are doing around you is key. The enemy won't care if you're tired and wait for you to collect yourself."

"The X-Men are too squeaky to sucker punch," Toad stated flatly.

"Perhaps, but you won't always be fighting them.

"You did quite well, all things considered. Only two real flaws, the rest is all in learning how to use what you have more effectively and efficiently.

"Flaw one: you continue to view this fight like a human. All walls and he ceiling are a valid surface for you. You're using them as stepping-stones; you need to think of them as floors that just happen to be going in different directions. Achieve that mindset and new possibilities for attack and defense will become clear to you. Not to mention it will make it much harder for opponents to read you when your mind is on a different wavelength.

"Flaw the second: you fell apart when I gave you that bruise. After that hit you lost all real offensive strategy and were retreating to different degrees," Lazarus explained.

"That's cuz you grabbed that broom and whacked me with it! You said this was a spar, no weapons," Toad pointed out, glaring at the offending cleaning implement.

"I never said no weapons. Spar is just that, a spar. I'm not teaching bloody kung fu or karate. Martial arts have no place in real warfare. At least, not ones that harp on about enlightenment and using the katas to achieve inner peace. I suppose savate would do it, but I'm not the one who can teach that sensible style.

"I'm teaching you to fight well and smart. If you see an advantage, take it, if your environment produces a weapon you can use, grab it and use it to change the odds in your favor. That tongue of yours could be quite deft. In fact why not give this a go?" Lazarus mused. He held the broom out in front of him turned on its side. Toad considered it, looking back to Lazarus checking for some hint of a trick.

Finding none he opened his mouth, tongue shooting out; it latched onto the clean end and reeled it in. He stumbled back as the broom hit him on the nose, clattering to the ground.

"Well, we have to start somewhere. Anyway, as I was saying weapons can be had from most anything. Either as they are or combine them to make a weapon, say a spray can and some matches. The reason I wear suspenders and a belt is so the belt is free for use. Garrote, binding, tool, tourniquet etc, you would not believe the things I have done with a belt.

"Make sure to always wear a belt, carry a lighter, and a roll of coins in your pocket. Now work on that tongue retrieval and think about what I said. Next lesson is how to break a chokehold and capture your attacker's arms in doing so," Lazarus dismissed him, sitting down on the bench. Toad, tossing the towel aside, turned to go only to stop and look back to the bespectacled mutant.

"Why a roll of coins?" he asked, almost dreading the answer.

"Put it in your fist for a better punch. Not to mention to ensure ready access to vending machines of all sorts," Lazarus chuckled at what may have been a joke. Shaking his head for trying Toad made his way to the steps.

* * *

Rogue found Lazarus where Toad said he would be, sitting in the living room like he was a person and not some psycho freak. He even had that cat on his lap. People assumed Rogue liked cats because of the Goth look, but she tolerated them at best. Dogs were alright, no real complaints so long as they behaved. She actually liked reptiles, they looked and moved cool, though Irene had put her foot down on getting a pet snake.

Finally seeming to acknowledge her arrival he looked up from the cat to give one of those unsettling grins of his. As if; she was almost certain he knew she was there immediately and made her wait.

"Rogue, it's time we explored some boundaries for your powers," he said without getting up. He made a come hither gesture and deciding to just get this over with she obeyed, stopping by the coffee table. She idly noticed a potted fern that had not been there earlier. Great, now he was playing interior decorator.

"For starters kindly grab one of those fronds," Lazarus stated. Rogue raised an eyebrow but did as he asked.

"Take your glove off Rogue," Lazarus sighed. Rogue grinned at the possible exasperation and pulled off one long glove to grab the fern.

"Feel anything?" Lazarus asked.

"No, just a dumb plant," Rogue answered.

"It's not withering either. So you can't absorb the energy of plants, good to know. Keep that glove off we are not done," Lazarus stated, finally getting up.

"Next is animal testing, pet the cat," Lazarus commanded. Rogue looked down at the cat in the man's arms and looked him in the shades with an expression that said "seriously"?

"Just a brief touch, I wouldn't want Ludwig adversely affected, in the long term," Lazarus clarified.

"Your concern is touching," Rogue commented.

"I command you to pet the cat," Lazarus reiterated.

Rogue gave him a death glare, wondering if he was being ridiculous on purpose or if he was just oblivious, finally she reached out and stroked the cat hard enough to press down its fur. She lifted her hand as she felt the familiar warm sensation; it was like drinking hot soup, only instead of gong down her throat she felt it fill her whole body.

"That worked," Rogue said with a sigh, grinning. As usual since that first time it felt like she could take on anything, her weak body bolstered to where she imagined she could run naked under the sun and not get winded or her pale hide grilled. Hmm, odd thoughts also tended to accompany that first rush she noted.

"Hmm, any difference from absorbing a human?" Lazarus asked. He gently placed the unconscious cat on the couch as he turned away.

"Uh, now that I'm past the rush it feels a bit… less?" Rogue offered. Lazarus pulled down the blinds on the window.

"Perhaps less body mass so less energy to take. Or less efficient absorption due to the species. There's a theory that if mutants adhered to endogamy that in a few generations the descendants would be unable to produce fertile offspring with humans. For now it isn't an issue so sadly one could argue humans are the same species. So perhaps you are best at absorbing what is closer to you. Obviously you don't absorb microorganisms," Lazarus thought aloud as he continued to darken the room.

"Obvious how?" Rogue asked.

"If you were leaving a dead space around you from constant absorption of microorganisms there would be a chill following you around, now please read this card," Lazarus asked holding up what looked like an eye exam card. Rogue read it off to the third lowest line.

"Rogue, you read that across the room with no lights on," Lazarus stated. Looking up Rogue felt her jaw drop, realizing he had turned off the overhead light. In fact with the doors closed she couldn't see how the room was illuminated enough to see letters on that card.

"Most interesting. Pity we don't have a pool, then I could test for a water aversion," Lazarus mused, looking off to the side.

The door opened, light flooding into the room. Lazarus turned to see Toad walk in.

"Hey boss listen, Lance is- Wha?" Toad trailed off looking past him. Lazarus turned and cocked a nonexistent eyebrow as Rogue licked her left wrist.

"An acceptable drawback," Lazarus announced. Rogue's head snapped up and she glanced around in some confusion. Looking down to her wet wrist she scrunched up her face before walking over to the coffee table and grabbing a tissue to wipe the appendage off.

"Anything else?" Rogue asked.

"No, we need your system clear for the next step," Lazarus told her. Without further ado she strode past Toad who looked after her with a pensive expression.

"What were you guys doing?" he asked the teacher.

"Just determining the extent of her vocation," Lazarus answered.

_

* * *

_

Outside Bayville:

"This should be far enough," Lazarus announced, pulling the jeep over and off the road. Pulling out and pocketing the keys he swiftly exited the car and started off into the woods. Lance cursed and leapt out of the passenger seat to pursue his teacher. With no real explanation, Lazarus had taken him to the car when he declared it was time for their session and drove the pair of them into the woods. Catching up to the other mutant he glanced down and gave an appraising look to the black leather bag Lazarus was carrying. It was old-fashioned looking, not surprising to him considering Blight was not forthcoming with his exact age, which to his mind meant the guy was embarrassed of how old he had gotten.

"So we're out here, now what?" Avalanche demanded.

"Like the others I am going to try and feel out your power. Creating tremors is your apparent power but several Nephilimon, like Tolanksy, have multiple abilities coinciding with each other. Even if that isn't the case, I want to see what exactly your tremor producing ability entails," Lazarus explained. Alvars thought on how Toad had his agility and adhesiveness in addition to that tongue. He was not sure he wanted something else; as it was he was the normal looking member of the Brotherhood. On the other hand, more power was good. He frowned as they kept walking through the undergrowth.

"I'm not going to make that much of a rumble," Lance stated. Lazarus turned his head slightly to give what he assumed was an annoyed look. Lance really hated those sunglasses for making the guy harder to read. Maybe he should look into some, he'd been told he was too easy to read on several occasions. Nah, he decided it would be seen as taking a leaf out of Summers' book.

"It's our well being I'm worried about right now. If we are going to be using earthquakes it would be best not to have trees falling on us. By the way, do you have a lighter?" Lazarus asked.

"I don't smoke," Lance answered shrugging.

"Oh, you seem the type. Not my point though. Start carrying one on your person at all times, preferably not a disposable. As I told Tolansky earlier, a lighter and a belt are two items you should always keep on your person. Both have many uses, including combat, and possession of them does not raise credible suspicion if you are searched," Lazarus explained, also answering the anticipated question.

The two entered a meager excuse for a meadow; after a moment's consideration Blight nodded in satisfaction, placing his bag on the ground before turning to face Alvars.

"Let's get started then. Create a moderately sized quake in respect to your abilities," Lazarus ordered. Spreading his stance, Lance raised his hand and called in his mind for the quake. As ever the sensation of feedback was awing, his eyes rolling into his head in… well he didn't know how to describe what he was feeling.

"Enough," Lazarus' voice cut through his mind. The feeling faded as the world grew still and his eyes rolled back into focus.

"Hmm, why do you raise your arms?" Lazarus asked.

"It helps focus it," Alvars answered shortly.

"Hmm, that would indicate you are more a geokinetic. Do you feel a connection with the Earth when you tap into your powers? Does the act remind you of sex?" Lazarus asked.

"What?" Lance answered, put back on his heels.

"A connection to the Earth, soil, plates. What exactly do you do? Is it creating vibrations or are you actually manipulating matter with a form of telekinesis?" Lazarus elaborated.

"I meant the other part," Alvars growled, stepping up to Lazarus.

"Heh? Oh, the sex bit. Nothing to be embarrassed about, your abilities are a natural part of you like breathing or an appendage. For someone like Toad or Dukes their abilities come more integrated, they can't really separate themselves from them. For abilities like yours and Rogue the mind tends to have specific ideas attached to activating them. Several past students of mine described the use of their powers as a pleasurable act of fulfillment.

"Rogue calls hers as something like eating only not. I think she was actually being on the level – stranger answers have been given. So was it like that?" Lazarus mused.

"None of your business," Alvars answered, turning away from him.

"As your instructor and boss it is my business, but for now we can let it lie. Now I want you to try and make a quake in the air above us," Lazarus continued. After several failed attempts, which resulted in either normal tremors or nothing at all Lazarus decided to move onto something else.

"Hey Blight," Lance called out as they made their way to the edge of the clearing.

"Yes?" the instructor answered.

"What does it feel like to turn those wicked hands on?" Lance asked. He smirked internally, enjoying turning the man's invasive line of questioning back on him.

"It feels like warm blood is flowing over my hands, just for a moment. I don't really notice anymore. Cannot say if that is good or bad, but it is to be expected from an ability only good for destruction," Lazarus answered with a slight edge to his tone. Lance stopped for a step, surprised to receive an answer, only later wondering if the answer was true or not.

"Now place you hand on this tree and try and make a quake in it," Lazarus commanded. Lance rolled his eyes as he laid his hand against the rough barks; why did the geezer think this would work?

Avalanche knew immediately it had worked, and in the same instance his instinct screamed to stop. Doing what he could only describe as pulling down an emergency break in his head he retracted his hand with a step back before the tree exploded.

Lazarus brought his forearms together, shielding his face as the green leaf was blown to pieces. At the unmistakable sound of a tree falling he opened his line of sight and sprang to his right as the tree fell. Getting up from the roll he saw he had not been in danger, his position had placed him out of the path to begin with. Only by a small margin though, he assured himself.

"Fuck!" Alvars screamed. Lazarus turned his attention to his student and was by the downed teenager in a second. Thankfully he had been in uniform, the wooden projectiles either deflected by the armor or piercing it but not him. His left cheek had been cut, but not deep enough for a real scar. The cause for alarm was his right arm. In a word, it was broken. Even if he had not seen such wounds before the shape probably would have given it away. As it was he had passed out.

"Well we can't have that, need you awake before we get to the hospital, story straight and all. Sorry, I didn't expect that," he apologized to Alvars. Running over to his doctor's bag he retrieved some smelling salts, and paused to look at the ruined tree.

"If that had been a person," he muttered. This warranted investigation and more testing, but for now he had to revive an ill tempered teenager.

* * *

"Boss, you wanted to see me?" Blob asked as he made his way down the stairs. Not getting a response, he continued his descent and took a glance around the basement-turned-training room. He spotted the scarred mutant sorting through a large wood box, like a small crate. He had taken off his jacket, as he seemed to do when doing this sort of thing. While it made him look less official with a white button-up with suspenders and belt, his scars ensured he would hardly seem less intimidating.

Glancing up to reveal his sunglasses under the brim of his ever-present hat he took note of his student's entrance. Though truth be told, he had been aware of the arrival well before the large youth announced himself.

"Ah, Dukes, pleasantly punctual I see, excellent. It's time we tested your capabilities," Lazarus stated lifting a pry bar from the box.

"Test?" Blob asked dumbly as the instructor walked up to him.

"Yes, usually I like to train a recruit up a bit before doing this, but since you held your own against the X-Men and have such martial applicable powers I felt we could forego the preliminaries and get to the assessments," Lazarus explained.

"Oh, okay," Blob responded. He was not sure what Mr. Lazarus was talking about but it sounded like he had impressed the old man. Without so much as a by your leave Lazarus hit him in the side of the head with the pry bar.

"Hey!" Dukes yelled. Lazarus studied the now bent pry bar before looking back to the irate youth.

"That hurt?"

"You hit me with a crow bar!" Dukes yelled.

"Since it's on record that you can withstand two trucks trying to rip your arms off it seemed likely that would not phase you. Your reaction and lack of lost balance say no damage was done. You are quite tough young man," Lazarus answered, walking back over to the box. Blob cooled down at the praise; yeah he could take your punishment and just keep right on coming.

"Now please remove your shirt and strip down to your trousers," Lazarus stated. He dropped the useless pry bar back in the box.

"What?" Dukes cried at the query.

"Relax lad. I want to test to see if that durability extends to other means of force or damage. Frankly, your hide is more durable than your clothes, no sense ruining some perfectly good threads now is there?" Lazarus chuckled.

* * *

Rogue hung up the phone and briefly racked her mind her as to where Blight should be. Recalling hearing sounds from the basement earlier she guessed he was down there with one of the boys.

The basement door was closed but unlocked; she opened it and heard… something. She frowned as she descended the steps – she knew this sound, definitely. But she could not place it, the answer just being on the tip of her tongue and she reached the level where the basement ceiling gave way.

"Blight, the hospital called. Lance is-" Rogue called out before nearly stumbling the last few steps. She grabbed the overhanging wall to steady herself at the sight that greeted her.

Blight was using a spray can and some matches as a makeshift flamethrower and was dousing Fred Dukes in fire. Her jaw dropped, and at this point Blob spotted her and said something, making the older mutant stop firing and turn to face the new arrival.

"Rogue, something you need?" Blight asked. Seeing Rogue's shocked expression he glanced back to Dukes, easily connecting the dots. Waving a hand dismissively, putting the matches out in the same motion, he gave one of those ruined smiles of his.

"Quite the sight, no? I'm so desensitized I tend to forget the shock factor these miracles can have. No need to worry though – as you can see, beyond some prolific perspiration Mr. Dukes comes through the fires fine. It turns out even a point blank from a pistol just loses its momentum in his fat and falls with a ping," Lazarus announced, adding a bit of showman flare to the last sentence. Dukes grinned at the praise and slapped his reddened belly as if to emphasize its lack of damage.

Rogue pulled herself together from the shock and her face reddened from being so easily put off her stride. Her pale complexion was easily flushed, even with the make up on.

"That's not it," Rogue denied. Lazarus raised a missing eyebrow at the statement. Rogue grasped for something, and her eyes falling back on Dukes found her out.

"His fat ass almost gave me a stroke! Put on a shirt already, or put up a warning sign for the rest of us!" Rogue taunted. She didn't stay as Duke's face contorted in rage, already making her escape up the stairs. Lazarus glared after her before setting his mind to diffusing the Blob bomb about to explode.

_

* * *

_

Once more the vision receded, I stood in a tunnel far less kept than the one where the serpent had called on me. I knew this was the moment I had just been told of; before me lay an access hatch, the warning once scrawled across the metal obscured by the filth laid upon it by time, specs of crimson in the grime my only clue. The ladder descended into the darkness that had hidden beneath this island since days without name.

_I could hear it, breathing in the silence. It was distant like the far side of the world and almost close enough to touch. The dragon awaited me, if I turned back to the land of the sun and moon now it would lurk forever beneath my feet; it's mockery tearing down my works before they came to be._

_My choice made I seized the first rung with my ragged hand, feeling the vision close about me as the light faded._

_The dragon roared, thrilled to my coming, anticipating the confrontation that awaited me as I walked the path of Orpheus and the Coyote. Though unlike those sojourners I came not to rescue my love from the depths of hell. Rather I knew I descended into myself seeking something that I could not fathom. All I knew was that like them I could not turn away or I would be truly lost._

_A boy cried out in the distance, and I remembered to be afraid._

Someone walking down the hall pulled Lazarus from his bible, the sound of the footfalls indicating Dukes. But the sounds could be imitated; he pulled his gun from his holster and pocketed the scriptures.

Rising silently from the chair, he made his way to the most tactical position regarding the doorway and waited. Shortly after the footfalls arrived at the door two small knocks were made against it.

"Yes?" Lazarus replied pleasantly, as if he were still reading and not holding a pistol ready.

"Boss, it's me. Can I talk with you, sir?" Dukes called though the door. The tone and hesitation were unlike what Dukes exhibited normally; it was him. Lazarus hastily returned to the chair, returning his gun and withdrawing the book with hardly any noise.

"Come in, it's open," he called out pleasantly. Dukes opened the door quickly, which brought Lazarus' hand into his jacket, but it seemed he was only angry.

"What can I do for you?" Lazarus asked, pulling his hand out of his jacket.

"Rogue's a bitch," Dukes growled.

"Hmm, tell me how you really feel," Lazarus commented, putting his bible down on the arm of the chair.

"I just did," Blob answered, his tone suggesting it was not a joke.

"Fine, lay out your complaints, better out than in," Lazarus commented.

"You know what I'm talking about! First she ditches me! Then she sides with the X-geeks to send me through the roof. Then there was this morning!" Dukes raged. He panted afterwards; Lazarus believed it was time to step in.

"In order; you admitted before you told her she could go, so while her attitude was bad you can't really fault her. Her actions in the warehouse were extreme, but so were yours. She received her punishment for those two so I expect you to lay those two matters to rest.

"However, her insulting you this morning was unacceptable. A bit of ribbing is to be expected, in some cases encouraged, but she needs to learn to swallow that blasted pride. She lied Dukes – she was freaked out by what she saw but choose to hide it by making sport of you," Lazarus explained. Dukes looked thoughtful, actually touching his chin.

"What are you going to do?" Dukes asked, his anger seemingly subsumed by curiosity now. Likely because he now assumed retribution was in the works.

"Hmm, normally the best way to cure fool's pride is public humiliation. But alienating Rogue at this point is something I can't afford. I want this unit to come together, this feud between you two needs to be settled for that to happen.

"No, you don't have to like each other. But trusting one another is something I am requiring. Heh, ignore her for now, I will think of something. Or perhaps God will intercede and make the world balance the scales," Lazarus mused.

Dukes looked puzzled at that last bit, but the gist of it was the boss was on his side but wanted to take care of it in his own time. He would prefer just to deck the Goth and call it even, but when his head was clear he knew that solution only made more problems. Recalling Rogue bent over the lawn cursing as she clipped it he grinned. The boss was an alright guy, Dukes was sure whatever he came up with would be good. If he was supposed to step aside he would do that, providing a certain Goth didn't step right back into his path.

Looking around it sunk in that this was the first time he had been in the Boss' room. Pretty barren, the only things that stood out were a funny cross hung over the bed, a picture of some Asian dude, and… what the hell? He stared at the second picture, which hung over the desk, in clear confusion. Lazarus noticing his look glanced over and smiled at the object of his student's confusion.

"You like that one do ya?" Lazarus asked. Blob scratched the back of his neck a bit embarrassed at being caught staring at something like that. He didn't want the Boss to think of him as some cow-eyed idiot.

"Uh, just surprised to see fantasy art here," Blob stated. His eyes snapped to their widest as Blight threw back his head and laughed, a deep throaty sound, vaguely reminiscent of a car engine trying to start.

"Sorry, sorry, that just took me by surprise. I forgot how uninitiated you and the others are, you still have so much to learn about the world.

"Well no time like the present, first of all that is not a picture that is a portrait," Lazarus explained, calming down.

"Portrait?" Blob responded. Wasn't a portrait just another word for picture? Lazarus seemed to pluck the thought from his mind.

"A portrait of a real person, made by a gifted painter," Lazarus supplied. Rising he walked to stand in front of his desk looking at the portrait, a solemn look coming over him.

Coming to stand beside him, Blob studied the image more thoroughly. It was a woodland scene, apparently, the subject leaning back against a tree apparently relaxing. She looked to be in the age of a girl moving from childhood into adolescence. From her chin down she seemed to be covered in reddish brown fur, though her modesty was guarded by a blue vest and skirt she wore. Her hands were behind her head, but her feet were hooves, her legs a mix between such an animal and a human, finally a pair of two-pronged antler poked through shoulder length charcoal hair. The hair framed a cute face with a small nose an a pair of soft eyes with irises the color of strawberries.

"She's… real?" Dukes asked uncertainly. While logic argued against it a part of him still cautioned this could be some elaborate joke. Lazarus did not turn from the portrait to answer.

"You've seen Nightcrawler; there are more of your kind in this vein than you would think. Where do you think the old legends came from in the first place?" Lazarus pointed out dully.

"So, what's her name?" Blob queried. He didn't especially care; he just wanted to break the increasingly heavy mood that seemed to be gathering.

"Her name was Eileen, Eileen Dorothy Lazarus. She was my daughter Mr. Dukes," Blight stated a strange lilt creeping into his voice.

"Oh, sorry," Blob was no genius but he could figure out what the past tense meant.

"She passed long before you were born. I keep this near me as motivation, so I never forget what I'm capable of.

"You may go now," he told Dukes. The large boy left, closing the door behind him. There was no doubt in his mind that it would be best for him to keep what he just learned to himself.

* * *

Rogue followed Blight down the basement stairs sullenly, arms crossed and a customary scowl on her face. The instructor had not voiced his displeasure with her actions last night, but he hardly needed to when he seemed to radiate disapproval with each gesture. Toad was following the man's lead; Rogue wasn't certain if he was trying to butter up Lazarus or was trying to get some sort of friendship with the fat ass. Thankfully Lance at least seemed to be amused that she had been able to actually irritate the scarred man, though he was noticeably less enthused when Blight was actually around.

Still for all her bravado Rogue knew shit happened when you crossed lines. Irene had been a good ma to her, but the blind woman was no one's doormat. Since Blight had fetched her without preamble and ignored her questions, she assumed her punishment was nigh. Well bring it on; I sort of knew what I was getting into, she thought.

She paused as she got her first good look into the basement, Blob leaning against the far wall. She relaxed some when she saw a look of surprise pass over his face when he saw her; it seemed he was in the dark as well. Not wanting to further aggravate Blight she hurried down the remaining steps, joining him in walking out into the center of the basement.

"Rogue, it's time we began seriously training your power," Blight stated.

"How?" Rogue asked cautiously. His training had put Lance's arm in a sling after all.

"You'll never be more than a competent fighter on your own strength, your physical deficiencies guarantee that. So if you are to succeed in battle you need to be able to maximize the advantage given by your powers of absorption. So today you will absorb Mr. Dukes' power and train with it, so that you can use it to the utmost if and when the event rises in battle that you need to borrow his strength and durability," Lazarus explained. Dukes had started to come forward but he stopped at those words, scowling at the Goth girl.

"Why me?" he demanded.

"She already has some experience using your powers. Also you are the only one to date who remains capable after receiving her draining touch, so you'll be able to assist her in some basic applications," Lazarus answered. His tone was friendly, but Blob picked up that this was an order not a request. Giving a low growl, he walked up to the other teen, his scowl met by one of Rogue's as she pulled off one of her elbow length gloves.

"Alright then, give her a hand Dukes," Blight suggested. Reluctantly, Blob held out one hand palm facing up. Rogue's deathly pale hand came over it and hesitantly bent her fingers to brush his palm.

_

* * *

_

12 Minutes Later:

Lazarus sat on the floor, back against the basement door, head held so the back brim of his hat brushed against the tarnished wood. He chose not to look up at the sound of heavy footfalls coming down the hall, merely holding up a hand and receiving the glass of water Dukes had brought. The instructor delicately sipped some of the water before cocking his head to better see his student.

Dukes seemed recovered from the earlier shock, now he seemed embarrassed. Not in the way he was accustomed to either, if Lazarus was reading him right. And concern, yes he was seeing some concern, capital.

"She seems to have calmed down, or at lest exhausted herself to silence," Lazarus answered the unasked question.

"She going to be ok?" Blob asked. There was not much sympathy in his tone, but it was sincere.

"I doubt anything is wrong technically, she simply was unaware of what her abilities can fully entail. So were we, but discovering such facets in a controlled environment is the whole point of training.

"But yes, I am confident that the side effects will be just as fleeting as the powers she pilfers. And if not, well nothing a combination of time and effort can't remedy. Though why the concern? Aren't you reveling in the cosmic justice of the situation?" Lazarus asked, suppressing a smirk.

"We're not cool, but we're even," Dukes grunted looking to the door. His face was a bit sour, but the anger was gone. He left without further comment.

"I can work with that," Lazarus announced to no one.

Reaching up with his free hand, Lazarus rapped on the door twice.

"Rogue, I've got some water if you want it," Lazarus called through the door.

"Ya'll keep that door closed or it will be last thing you do!" Rogue called back.

"Still not deflating I assume. Fascinating development, I actually have a theory on why we haven't seen this kind of metamorphosis in you before," Lazarus stated. The fact that her mother was a shape shifter was part of the theory, but a section he would be withholding for now. Taking silence as consent he continued.

"You clearly always had metamorphic qualities, it may be the reason your systems are so weak, your body holds that energy in reserve to alter itself to use different powers. You didn't show any qualities when you absorbed Wagner because you already absorbed the human boy; your body could not apt for peak efficiency. And when you took a third your system went into an emergency mode, fleeing then passing out.

"Your body did adapt fully for Summers, but he passes for human easily so it didn't show. And Dukes, same story as with Wagner. This time though, your system was clean and you altered to best utilize Dukes' powers."

"How is being a tub of lard a good thing! ?" Rogue shrieked.

"Well he never has been able to loose weight. So I think it is essential body mass for his nigh invulnerability and superior strength. You'll have to train a lot with that form to be able to utilize it properly though. I imagine Tolansky's tongue will be far more bizarre.

"Oh, you'll need a different set of clothes too. We'll have to send to Mexico for some of that special-"

"Fuck that! No way am I going to do this again! That bastard even saw me naked! This is the worst day of my life!" Rogue shrieked. Toad had been walking past and paused at that declaration; looking to Lazarus sitting against the basement door he decided it was best just to keep walking. Lazarus watched him go with some approval, but decided to make the most of he situation.

"Tolansky, would you kindly fetch Rogue's bathrobe back to here?" Lazarus queried. Tolansky stopped and scratched his scalp nervously looking off to the side.

"Uh, I've been banned from her room on penalty of death by toilet," Tolansky answered.

"Well I'm pardoning you in advance," Lazarus chuckled. Sighing, Toad went off to do as he was told, fairly certain Rogue would still get after him for trespassing. Now the scarred instructor turned his attention back to the girl in the basement.

"You say this is your worst day? Congratulations," Lazarus proclaimed, sarcasm apparent.

"Alright, the night my powers awoke was worse. Can't compete with an identity crisis and being hunted by freaks in spandex," Rogue conceded grudgingly.

"Congratulations, you seem to have had it pretty well," Lazarus stated his voice dripping with insincerity.

"What do you want?" Rogue demanded.

"For you to stop acting like you're entitled to something. Tolansky and Rapunzel are children of foster care and Dukes' mother is useless even to herself. Your handicaps count for little with a loving mother raising you with love and providing for you.

"I've trained and known people who come from war zones, who had death and hunger as childhood companions.

"I know a woman who like Herr Wagner could not hide what she was and her change came very young. But she was not so blessed as Mr. Wagner – her parents rejected her. They drove her out into the country and abandoned her with only a tiny backpack. She found her way back and her father drove her off the property with a rake, while her mother did nothing to stop him. The girl was eight, and she survived only because her brothers were better men and snuck her food and blankets as she hid. That was how I found her, and even today I don't think the wounds her parents gave her have healed.

"I know a lot of stories sadder than anything this brotherhood holds. Some stayed strong, some were reborn through it, and of course some were broken.

"As far as I am concerned what happened here was just with how you have been treating your comrades. You don't like that weight on your frame? Dukes is the one that has to live with it, empathize dammit.

"If you are determined to not realize your potential I will not force you too. A soldier more loyal to themselves than anything is worthless. You'll be transferred to the Lapland Branch, and count reindeer and try to watch shoddy satellite reception. On the bright side, there no one will bother you, if that is what you are after.

"I'll leave your robe out here for when you shrink," Lazarus told her. She was silent as Toad returned and Lazarus hung the robe on the knob before taking his leave. Some time the door opened just wide enough for a slender alabaster arm to slide through the gap and snag the black robe before hauling its catch back inside.

_

* * *

_

?:

The clang of his boots on the metal floor echoed through the empty halls. The smells that reached him were of new work, the complex nearing completion still felt to be a work in progress. Yet, he felt what many others had expressed, that it also felt cold and empty like a tomb.

Erik Lehnsherr banished such thoughts from his mind. This silence was not of the grave, but that of the empty cauldron, waiting to be filled. The metal crate that glided through the air in his wake would see to it that this place would be teeming with life as the crucible of a new age.

With a wave of his hand he opened the double door he had come to and was pleased at the sounds of tools and tinkering. The chamber was massive, an assembly hall that gave way to a balcony that would offer a stunning view in the future. He admitted the design was a bit much, but for its grand purpose theatrics seemed only fitting.

The activity was confined to a single section of the room, especially in and around a circular doorway leading in to a short hallway. Three men flitted about the crevice, flipping through clipboards checking and verifying their notes against the reality and making adjustments with their tools or notes for later as relevant. A fourth man watched them, but while the others resembled electricians at work his spotless white coat and open portfolio made the dark man the very image of a scientist.

Seeming to sense being observed the scientist turned and spotted the figure enveloped in red armor, and more importantly the crate floating behind him. He was on the less flattering side of middle age. He was not someone who had let his body go, but neither had he dedicated himself to maintaining it. Short curly gray hair was cut close to his head, contrasting well with his dark complexion. One could have called him handsome in an aged manner, if his lined face was not clearly accustomed to scowls and his black eyes were not so ready to find fault.(1)

Magneto could not help but grin behind the shadows of his helmet as the admitted cynic practically lit up in anticipation, practically jogging over to him, his role of supervisor utterly forgotten.

"You have it?" the Doctor asked with just a hint of desperation. Rather than answering, Magneto let the crate fall gently to the ground and with a gesture unbolted the lid and with another flipped the lid back. The Doctor was on it before the powerful mutant could turn to watch, ripping out and casting aside the dried plants that had served as packing material with the wherewithal of a child unwrapping a Christmas present. In no time at all he seized the object of his desire and held it aloft with the audacity and gentleness a parent would for a baby. The crimson crystal seemed to pulse in the Doctor's hands, bathing them in its own faint glow.

"Beautiful," he whispered. Magneto was unsure if he meant the aesthetic appeal most would find was what he was referring to, or the deeper qualities of the crystal that this man understood better than him.

"Will this be enough?" Magneto asked gesturing to the crate. Stirred from his reverie, the Doctor returned his attention to the crate, clasping the crystal to his chest with one hand he stirred the packing material revealing more jewels, and calculated how many were likely still hidden within.

"More than enough. We can now truly begin the final phase," the Doctor stated. His gaze drifted back to the machine his assistants were working on, his customary scowl falling back into place. Magneto kept his attention on the man behind the machine.

"So you will have it operational in time?" Magneto pressed.

"Yes, yes, I told you if you provided us with the proper power source within my timeframe we could meet your deadlines. It isn't simple to rework something this complex you know, though it was conceived with the kind of power source needed unknown. Dr. Essex thought it would be an atomic plant of some sort and planned accordingly. These are far more efficient but we will likely have to make even more adjustments and outright rework systems to work as they are meant to," The Doctor griped. It wasn't that the helmeted figure failed to intimidate him, he did, but pride would not allow him to back down when he saw himself in the right even at the expense of self-preservation.

"Perhaps you would have preferred designing this from scratch?" Magneto offered casually. Why was it brilliant men had to be either abrasive or crazy, he wondered? The Doctor frowned at that comment, but had a thoughtful look as he returned to studying the jewel that would bring this project to its glorious fruition. His pride was not in the least bit irked to acknowledge that he was doing little more than complete another man's vision, after all it was a vision he shamelessly admired.

"I wasn't sure what to expect when you gave me Essex's files, but it was beyond what I anticipated. His theories and schematics were laid out so elegantly. Though it's highly complex even by today's standards, Dr. Essex presents it in such a way as to make you feel foolish for not seeing it yourself. It almost makes me think he intended for the research to be carried on by someone else.

"Even seventy years later the world is still only catching up to the works of this genius," the Doctor declared, envy and awe coloring his tone. The crystal gently held in his hand, he turned to regard the Chamber.

"Hmm, you're wrong about it being left as some kind of legacy. Sinister saw himself as peerless, his legacy was meant to be immortality just so he would never have to hand his works over to those he saw as inferior. He may have been a Galileo far ahead of his time, but he was still a sociopath who destroyed countless lives in the pursuit of his goals. This is simply the world finally getting something back from his abuses," Magneto stated. Not for the first time he looked on at the machine and wondered how many had suffered for something that had not even existed until now.

"I suppose, still the pursuit of knowledge is almost an admirable cause considering what other people have committed atrocity for. Nationalism, feuds, religion – speaking of which shouldn't you be keeping Blight at arm's length? The Bayville recruits are going to be the secondary tests and the last thing we need is a Luddite like Lazarus learning about this," The Doctor frowned at the idea of it.

"It's a calculated risk; John will not be coming here and he has expressed no desire to. When events have run their course he will either return to Britain or stay on in Bayville if the situation allows," Magneto remarked some guilt felt at the deception.

"I don't like it. That man doesn't play with a full deck; madness throws all variables down the toilet. Besides, what if his influence contaminates the Brotherhood?" the Doctor was not ready to drop the issue.

"His loyalty has been proven time and again, and I expect that trait to carry over to his students. Mystique could never pass on a trait she lacks – the Brotherhood might have become strong under her, but strength we cannot control is worse than useless.

"And it's of no real concern to you Doctor. So long as it's ready," Magneto declared sternly.

"Oh, yes. As I told you before, the power source was the only missing element, Essex accounted for everything else. The Essex Chamber will be online within 96 hours, my lord," the Doctor stated confidently. Magneto almost flinched at the name being used so loosely.

"Call it an Enhancer, I would sooner not give Sinister credit," Magneto ordered.

"If you insist, are you still determined to be the first?" the Doctor commented absently.

"You said you were confident it would work," his eyes narrowed unseen.

"I am, but still, needless risks are not something a logical mind indulges in. Especially when you have such a vast pool of potential subjects to draw from," the Doctor insisted.

"Enough, my mind is set on this matter. This could guarantee our victory in the coming war, but as John has said Sinister earned his title for his works. We could opening Pandora's Box, it would be inexcusable of me to pass the task to someone else," Magneto commented grimly. If it killed him it would be his own fault and he could accept that, the stakes had been this high for so long it was a risk he could take. But if it worked, it could buy him the time he needed in addition to his stated goals.

"A leader who does not ask his followers to endure what he has not already faced? How fictitious," the Doctor rolled his eyes.

**

* * *

**

(1.

_Here we have another OC, he won't be stepping up until sometime in season 2 so don't worry about OCs taking over the story. I mention this because Zim'mostloyalservant pointed out my dear readers might waste time trying to find this man in canon when he simply is not there_.

**AN:**

_Well there is another chapter down. More development of the Brotherhood and Lazarus. Hardly saw any X-Men. Next chapter "Acceleration" will bring in a certain speed Demon and have a shift of perspective away from our friends in the Brotherhood to see more of how the other side lives. True to its title the next chapter will help get this story moving back towards action._

Please Review!

Discovery


	8. The Other Side

**Disclaimer**: _I don't own X-Men Evolution._

Beta Services Provided by Zim'smostloyalservant.

**AN: _I say again the character settings show Rogue and the chapter focus character, _**_**not a pairing****. Also I may have a picture of Lazarus post on my profile soon. This chapter our focus shifts a bit, but we will realign with the Brotherhood next chapter.**_

* * *

**The Other Side**

Evan Daniels' gaze drifted down from the bars of the holding cell to the grey concrete floor. The inside of a cell, something he had promised himself he would never see, and all he could do was wait for his family to come bail him out. Not that he looked forward to facing his parents in this. While he had a trickster's inclination – what energetic lad doesn't? – he had never wanted to fall into this role.

His mother's family came from Africa looking for a better life, and while his mother was all American these days his aunt liked to keep in touch with her roots. The Daniels, though, were old African American; ghetto, a Civil War veteran, and of course slaves. His old man had come from a bad place and lost his brothers to it, with him being the one to get clear and make a better life for himself. He could only imagine what his dad had looked like when he got the call from the cops.

Evan frowned as spikes started to sprout from his left forearm. There was another problem, he thought as he pulled them back in.

That should have tipped him off about impending doom; he wasn't a genius but he sure as hell wasn't stupid. He had learned about mutants in a talk reminiscent of the birds and the bees. At first he had wanted to have powers, to be a superhero or something, and then he grew up a bit and got real dreams.

He loved Auntie O, she was his cool aunt and he was cool with her being different. But she never seemed to be on the same level as the rest of his family. All that African stuff you could break out for some party or other, but America today was where it was at. Same with this mutant business; he could grudgingly admit he needed some coaching, but he wasn't about to let it take point in his life! And that was exactly what would happen if he got shipped off to some school for freaks.

Not to mention he had unfinished business here.

Pietro… he had to focus to keep his spikes from coming out at the thought.

Auntie had that much right about him; he and Pietro had been rivals for a long time. Before tonight he would have called it a friendly rivalry, though Pietro wasn't quite a friend. It hadn't been one-sided, they both had skills and both had their wins and losses. Maybe he had been dominating lately, but he had never thought things would turn like this! The competition had never been personal for him; truthfully he had appreciated Pietro pushing him over the years.

That was done now though. The white haired boy had stolen from him, humiliated him, and framed him. The last one was unforgivable, not only was his reputation shot but now he was going to have to deal with this shit at the worst possible time.

"Daniels, people to see you," a cop called out. Evan looked up as his parents and Auntie O came into sight beyond the bars.

"Evan!" his mother cried, stepping up. He got up from the cot to let her hug him through the bars. You could call it embarrassing, but he wasn't about to make things any harder for her. His dad didn't look happy, that was all he could get from the expression; looking back, skipping out like he did was a bad idea.

_Later:_

"Welcome to the dark side pal, misuse your powers you pay the price," the guy from earlier said as Evan's parents stepped out. The basketball player didn't dignify that with a reply.

"Evan, well we were hoping to finish our conversation from earlier. Not really where we wanted to have it though," the red shaded guy continued, Scott, Evan thought his name was.

"Well, now you've got a captive audience," Evan sarcastically answered. Scott smiled a bit at the humor; the red haired girl didn't seem amused.

"I know you didn't do it Evan, I can tell when people are lying," she stated, trying to sound comforting. Not that he found the idea of a human lie detector comforting, it sounded very annoying actually. Still, at least they knew he was innocent.

"I'm not ratting, this is personal," Evan replied, guessing her game. She frowned a bit at his statement, while Scott looked exasperated but unsurprised.

"That could be a problem. While it doesn't add up that you could do all that damage like that they have you at the scene and apparently red handed. You might be able to avoid Juvie with a good defense but this will end up on your records," Scott stated, scratching the back of his head.

That was nothing Evan hadn't heard from his father. If he had their number right they were just stepping up to the mound.

"Listen, we know you didn't do it and we can help. The Professor has a lot of influence and we can get you out of here with minimal penalty," Red stated. There's the wind up.

"What's the catch?" Evan asked, already knowing.

"The Professor uses his connections to get you out of here and you enroll at the Institute. We can probably sell it as some kind of parole and you get away from all the heat on the lockers. What do you say?" Scott proposed. And there was the pitch.

"Like I have a choice?" Daniels asked, looking up at the two teens.

"Hey now, you've always got a choice. Give the Institute a try and if you still hate the idea we can come to some other arrangement," Scott answered. Even looked to the side; he hated being cornered in like this. But he couldn't put his family through the legal hoop jumping in good conscious.

Alright, he decided. He'd play Auntie O's game for now, sometimes you have to accept defeat and just get ready for the next match. He _would _settle the score with Pietro; this was just pushing the date of the rematch back.

"Do I have to sign something?" he asked with a sigh. They both smiled at their apparent victory; he was betting they didn't know what they were getting into.

_

* * *

_

Xavier Institute:

"Talk about swanky," Evan whistled as the gates opened. They had said mansion but seeing was another thing; this Professor must be even more loaded than he thought.

"Evan be polite, you'll be living with these people for a while. Be sure to make a good first impression," his mother admonished. Evan rolled his eyes; he wasn't being sarcastic, though as they pulled up near a huge fountain he reconsidered that course of action. His parents were impressed, while he was feeling quite out of place. Was this a school or Buckingham Palace?

"Ah there's our welcoming committee," his dad chimed in. Turning his attention away from the fountain he saw his aunt walking down from the mansion entrance accompanied by a bald guy in a wheel chair. He supposed that's what you called a gentleman; first time he had seen one.

"Welcome to the institute, I trust your trip was pleasant. I am Professor Charles Xavier, founder and administrator of the Xavier Institute for the Gifted," the professor introduced himself as they got out of the car.

While his mom and dad exchanged pleasantries with the old guy and Auntie O he took another look around. This wasn't his element at all; hell, the mansion aside it looked like the property covered as much land as the neighborhood back home, maybe more! And the town looked like something out of an all American show or something. His first impression: this was going to suck like a figure skater prancing into a hockey game. But not be nearly as funny to watch.

"Evan, it's good to finally meet you, Ororo has told me a great deal about you," Xavier stated. Evan turned, having not noticed the man roll up to him. He shook the offered hand well enough, but didn't answer the greeting, something his father noted and was none too happy about. The professor on the other hand did not seem perturbed, if anything he seemed to expect and be slightly amused at the borderline rudeness.

"Yes, I know you come to us under less than ideal circumstances. I assure you my people are working to remove all marks from your record. In the mean time since you are here I hope we can move past the circumstances of your arrival and start on the right foot so to speak," Professor Xavier told him.

"You really will be able to help Evan with his… spike problem?" Mrs. Daniels inquired.

"Well I cannot offer you a time table if that is what you mean. Mutations are rather like fingerprints; each mutant's abilities are unique and typically require a unique approach to bringing them under control. My staff and I are experienced, however, and I am confident we will be able to give Evan the control he needs. In time, rather than being a problem his abilities could become quite the asset," Xavier told his parents.

For what, making my own nails? Evan scoffed internally. Though a bit of training could be useful when it came time to take Pietro down. Yeah, he would need to pull out all the stops to get the best of that speed demon.

"Ororo, why don't you show the Daniels' Evan's room and get him unpacked? I would like to show Evan the facilities and introduce him to his new peers," Xavier stated. Before he knew it Evan was walking down the halls of the mansion alone with the owner. It was just as fancy inside – was he even allowed to touch most of this stuff?

"You have free reign of the upper facilities with the exception of other residents' dormitories and the faculty only areas. Basically if a door is locked and you don't have a key you should not go in. You will be sharing a room with one of the current students, Kurt Wagner," Xavier explained.

"Why, how many students does it take to fill this place up?" Evan asked.

"Much more than we have right now certainly, but we have plans to expand the student body on a yearly basis from now on until we reach that capacity. Also, I feel sharing living space helps the student body to bond," Xavier told him, as they entered a large kitchen.

"This of course is the kitchen; the dining room is right through there. We serve meals at scheduled times for the staff and students. If you have requests or wish to help with the cooking see Jean or your aunt. You are free to use the kitchen facilities at any reasonable hour, but I ask that you use that privilege responsibly," Xavier explained as he rolled through the kitchen. Evan idly took the set up in, noting the highlights. The dining room door opened, admitting a dark-haired guy in some kind of orange and black uniform and a brunette girl that looked to be his age in a black and blue outfit. He noted they both had an X symbol on their clothes somewhere.

Some of the X-Men his aunt had talked about no doubt.

"Ah, perfect timing. Evan I would like you to meet Logan, one of our instructors, and Katherine Pryde, another student," Xavier announced the two. They stopped to regard him as he did the same. Logan was sizing him up like coaches did when going over prospective players; Evan couldn't help but straightening up. While the whole first impression thing didn't matter much to him, he wasn't about to fall short of the cut when he was getting measured. The girl was far more expressive, just looking at him with interest before brightening.

"Oh, yeah you're the spike guy, Storm's nephew right? Call me Kitty, everyone does," Kitty smiled, waving to him. She seemed nice enough, Evan decided, but that raised a question.

"Storm?" he asked, nodding to return the gesture.

"Heh, kid doesn't know anything Charles?" Logan huffed. His voice was as rough sounding as he looked, if there was any doubt Evan knew now this was the guy here that you didn't piss off.

"Ororo's code name is Storm, it is a tradition of sorts to take a codename and hers in particular seems to stick. Logan and Kitty for example also go by Wolverine and Shadowcat respectively," the Professor explained.

"Oh, I get Auntie O's but what can you guys do?" Evan asked, not sure what to make of their codenames. Wolverine gave a look that all but said he had better things to do, while Shadowcat glanced around thoughtfully. Apparently reaching a decision she stepped up to the kitchen table and reached under it, only for her hand and then her arm to rise up through the wood.

"Wow," Evan slipped, genuinely impressed by the display.

"I can, like, phase through most anything. It's not really reliable though, sometimes I walk into a wall and hit it, or I have ten times fallen through the floor while I was sleeping," Kitty explained. Even so, Evan felt a slight twinge of envy; this girl had an awesome power, he could easily see himself getting the better of Pietro by jumping out of a wall surprising him, or letting the speed demon pass right through him.

"Well that's why we're training, now," Logan growled. Kitty seemed to recall they had been interrupted and casting a sheepish look to the Professor and Evan phased through a counter and window into the backyard.

"Ah I see she is starting to apply her powers more, excellent. Before you go?" the Professor addressed Logan thoughtfully. With another grunt Logan held up his left arm, and three shining claws shot out through the odd pieces on his knuckles. Evan grinned at this demo.

"Dude! Our powers are totally on the level!" Evan exclaimed. Holding out his right arm he sprouted a row of his own less splendid spikes.

"Heh, not even close kid. Charles, I need to get to work on the half pint," Logan blew him off, talking to the Professor.

"Perhaps Evan could observe your session?" Xavier asked politely.

"No, it's training, not a demo. Besides she doesn't need an audience, she can hardly perform one-on-one yet. Later porcupine," Logan growled before stalking off.

"Porcupine? Please tell me that's not my codename," Evan pleaded to the Professor.

"No Evan, you get to choose your own codename. And it isn't a requirement, Jean has never taken a codename and neither have I. You'll have to excuse Logan, he tends to be rather rough, but he takes his job very seriously. Let's be moving on," the Professor decided. They exited the kitchen and the Professor started to show him the dining room.

_Later:_

After several more fancy rooms Evan felt more lost than less. There had been some highlights – they had a pool! Oh and the basement that looked like a set from Star Trek. He'd also been told there was another mutant crew he had to be on the look out for; apparently the Professor was fielding that subject to Scott.

It was getting pretty clear Scott and Jean were the Professors pets. He pegged Jean for the type, Scott seemed to err that way, but he would hold judgment on the other boy for now.

"And this will be your quarters while you are with us," the Professor said, opening a door. It was a pretty big room, were his first thoughts. Then he remembered he was sharing it with another guy and it seemed smaller. His mother and Auntie O were sitting on his made bed and talking while dad looked over the other half, bored apparently.

His roomy's stuff seemed pretty tame, though there were a pair of posters for bands he didn't recognize. Evan understood why when he gave them another look; the names were in another language, probably German or something from the guy's name.

"So son, does the place check out?" Mr. Daniels asked.

"It's cool, very big and expensive. They have a pool," Evan commented, not eager to praise his exile.

"A private pool eh, I'll be envying you when the thermostat starts to climb," his dad grinned, though it seemed a bit forced.

"Did you meet any of the other students?" his mom asked.

"Well I saw Scott and Jean, and there was this girl named Kitty. Didn't really get a chance to chat, she was busy with another instructor," Evan reported.

"I'm glad Logan didn't scare you off, he can have that affect on people," Storm smiled. Evan may not have wanted to come, but she knew this was where he needed to be right now, and she would sleep easier knowing he was learning what he needed to know.

A flash of light and an erupting cloud of smoke cut off further conversation. A pale boy in a khaki jacket with black hair near shoulder length fell deftly from the smoke.

"New guy! I'm Kurt Wagner, your new roommate, cool to meet you bro," Kurt exclaimed from his perch crouched on his bed.

"Kurt I'm glad you dropped in. I would like you to meet the Daniels," the professor addressed the new arrival, unfazed by the manner of entry.

"Guten tag, you made the right choice coming here, this place rocks!" Kurt grinned at the guests and new student.

Well, his fears of a neat freak roommate seemed to be fading; at least there seemed to be one normal guy here. Well normal being relative to popping out of thin air.

"Kurt is a teleporter, he can move near instantly from one location to another. So long as he can visualize his destination," the professor explained. The German boy seemed to soak up the praise, while Evan almost frowned at the thought. He could also have used this against Pietro; if he could teleport he could get around even quicker than the white haired backstabber. He seemed to be getting the short end of the stick when it came to powers.

"That certainly can come in handy," Mrs. Daniels commented politely. While she was accustomed to her sister, it was still a bit difficult to take all of this in stride.

"Definitely, it's gotten me out of a few tight spots over the years," Kurt agreed, stepping off the bed.

"That reminds me; Kurt, perhaps you should show them while we are all here," the Professor mused.

"Charles," Auntie O said with a worried tone. Which was nothing compared to the grimace from the till now overzealous foreigner – he looked like kids did after getting a bad midterm report to take home. Didn't take a genius to know something was about to go down.

"Uh, couldn't we wait until dinner or something?" Kurt ventured nervously.

"Kurt you know the watch is meant to help you with school and socializing beyond these walls. Having it run your life is not why I gave it to you," the Professor stated. His tone was not angry but there was definite firmness there.

"Ja, I know," Kurt sighed, looking to the ceiling as he stood up.

"Kurt you're among friends, remember that," Storm reassured him.

"Vell here goes," Kurt stage whispered, pressing a button on his watch.

Evan knew something was going to happen but he didn't expect this. Kurt Wagner flickered before him like a busted TV, flicking out to reveal… well, he wasn't sure what he was looking at; fuzzy elf, or monster, came to mind. He would admit that taking three quick steps back and having an unflattering expression on his face was not a good move, nor was his word choice.

"What the hell are you?" Evan cried.

"Evan, language!" Mrs. Daniels scolded, her own shock overcome by the reflexive scolding of her son. Kurt was far from amused by their antics, and his scowl was quite intimidating with his strange features.

"They call me Nightcrawler. Mutations don't always stay under the skin," he answered Evan cryptically.

"Dude," Evan muttered, still numb.

"Zee you all at dinner," Kurt rolled his eyes before vanishing in a puff of smoke. Evan blinked a few times before leaning back against the wall.

"I blew that, huh?" Evan admitted to everyone present.

"Big time," his dad agreed, though not really condemning.

"The watch is a holographic generator. Using it Kurt is able to attend school and other social activities. Before his arrival here he could only go out in public with heavy clothing and bandages to conceal his features. While the watch is meant to make his life easier he needs to come to terms with his true nature when dealing with others," the Professor explained. He sounded a bit regretful, but not enough in Evan's opinion; a little warning would have made that go a lot smoother.

The Daniels opted not to stay for dinner, citing a need to get back in time to be ready for work. Farewells were predictably sentimental where his mother was concerned, with promises to call and what not. The Professor had peeled off at some point, perhaps with matters to attend or simply letting the family have some final private moments. Admonishing himself for being so sentimental he watched the gates close behind his dad's car and felt something very big had just ended as he started his time at the Xavier Institute.

_Meanwhile:_

Kitty looked dubiously down the path she was standing at the head of with Mr. Logan. This was her first real one-on-one session with the grizzled mutant and she was nervous not to put too fine a point on it. Scott, Jean, and even Kurt talked about Logan sessions as a kind of training as tough as the man himself. Which did not bode well for her.

"So, why aren't we, like, using the Danger Room?" Kitty asked him as he pulled his hood into place. She wished he wouldn't do that; covering his eyes and so much of his head like that made him even harder to read, and more imposing.

"This is one of what we call the training paths, think of it like a smaller Danger Room. Unlike the room each one of these has the same goal, get to the end in good time, and alive," Logan told her curtly.

"Alive?" Kitty squeaked. She was almost certain Mr. Logan wasn't allowed to kill her, though at times in the Danger Room she wondered if at some point she had signed her life away on a waiver. But at least there, the Professor or Storm were on hand, making sure this guy didn't take things too far.

"Heh, don't make a mess Half Pint, this is a low level path, the really dangerous ones are strictly faculty and upper class use. Honestly this path is more about getting around obstacles that try to slow you down or stop you; should be right up your alley. But don't think it's declawed, nonlethal could still beat your ass if you get sloppy," Logan told her, lifting and downing her spirit as he spoke.

"So, like, an obstacle course? Well, like, that doesn't sound so bad," Kitty lied, eying the path like it was going to eat her.

"It might not be, but I'll be pacing you, to provide motivation," Logan grinned, his claws ripping out of his gloves. Kitty felt no shame in gulping.

The last wall was thicker; Kitty could feel it trying to catch her, like walking through a wall of drying honey or something like that. But she came through and saw the green light that meant an end to this. She could hear thumping on metal and imagined M. Logan leaping from one wall to another, mere second behind her, but she could actually win this, she thought.

Kitty was grinning at the thought of passing her first Logan session with flying colors, for the moment the nervousness forgotten. She saw the firing mechanisms pop up, three blunt disks already prepped in both as they took aim for her.

"No problem, just phase though them like the others," she thought. She had taken two hits from them earlier; she could already feel that two huge bruises were forming on her stomach from where they knocked her back. She could also feel where Mr. Logan had hauled her up to her feet by her shoulders and thrown her back into running growling at her. Way too intense!

This time though she had it under control. Or she would have, if she noticed the path in front of her wasn't solid, but a kind of gray liquid.

Kitty shrieked in surprise as first one foot then another sank into the path up to her ankles, and failed to emerge on demand. Still carrying her momentum she fell forward, catching herself on her hands and knees, trapping those two. Wasting precious seconds she tried to pull herself clear, her power forgotten in the surprise. The disks fired and she took no notice as they sped towards her.

It was only when something heavy landed on her back, forcing her almost face down into the goop, that she was distracted from her efforts. It grunted as something impacted it, a few times; she heard plopping sounds.

"End exercise!" Mr. Logan called out. A series of beeps and clicking reacted as devices retracted and shutdown. Nozzles popped up at the corners of the goop patch and began to douse it with a blue liquid. The two liquids mixed quickly and became runny, the goop loosing its cohesion. Logan got up and Kitty followed, wiping the junk off her hands.

"Yuck," she whined, having difficult cleaning herself since her hands were among the filthiest part of her. She noticed six discs sinking into the goop and realized what had happened.

"You covered me?" she asked, stunned enough she didn't drop her usual 'like' into the sentence.

"You failed when you got stuck, there was no point in you getting banged up for nothing," Logan shrugged.

That made sense she guessed. But not so much with him; she would expect him to let her back be beaten purple as a lesson in negative reinforcement. Instead he took the hits for her.

"Alright, let's get back to the beginning, I'll reset it and we'll try this again. And remember Half Pint it won't be the same this time," Mr. Logan growled as he started up the path. The idea didn't thrill her to say the least, but it didn't really scare her either now.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High, School Cafeteria:

Evan Daniels picked up his newly loaded tray and surveyed the cafeteria; like the rest of the school it was nicer than he was used too. Guess it came with the territory, he thought. Spotting Scott waving him over resolved his sitting dilemma. The X-Men seemed to be sharing a table, except for Jean; Evan spotted her nearby eating with some other girls talking about something. Evan took a seat across from Scott, next to Kitty who was telling Kurt something about Logan.

"So Evan, how do you like Bayville High so far?" Scott asked.

"No real complaints yet. Really blows having to transfer in the middle of a term. Bumped into some guy with an arm sling that told me to buzz off, nice to see even preppy schools have their warts," Evan commented, starting in on his chips.

"Wait, sling? Did he have long hair and beat up looking clothing?" Scott demanded.

"Uh yeah, friend of yours?" Evan responded. Kitty and Kurt quieted down, watching the exchange now.

"Lance, also goes by Avalanche; he's part of the Brotherhood," Scott told him, glancing around as if to make sure no one was too close to overhear.

"So the infamous Brotherhood makes its first appearance. One of you guys bust his arm?" Evan asked. Scott looked quite surprised by the question. Evan thought it was pretty sound; after all, the X-Men fought those guys, both teams probably got banged up since they actually were trying to do that each other.

"No, it wasn't us. We think it was the Brotherhood's leader who did it. His name's John Lazarus, the Professor says he's not above corporal punishment when dealing with his students. Be sure to stay clear of him Evan, he's-"

"Yeah, an extra crispy forties throwback, crazy as an ice machine in Alaska. The Professor showed me his picture when we went into the briefing room. He said you'd cover the flunkies," Evan interrupted.

"Oh, okay then, well there's Fred Dukes over there with Lance. He calls himself the Blob, he is very strong and just short of invincible when it comes to taking hits. He kidnapped Jean," Scott explained stonily, pointing to a fat guy with overalls and a blonde Mohawk.

"_Kidnapping? Man these guys really are intense, then again Scott looks ready to blast him now if not for the other students,_" Evan mused.

"Toad and Rogue are the pair over there," Scott continued. The table he indicated was closer, and despite empty spaces was unoccupied save for a pasty skinned guy in worn out clothes and a Goth girl with long black gloves, wearing black and her bangs dyed white. The Goth, Rogue, was reading something, while Toad was avidly watching something on the table. Leaning close and licking his lips the boy jumped back as Rogue smacked the table in front of him with her book. He gave her a reproachful look at her actions; he couldn't see from here but Evan was betting she rolled her eyes.

"Toad has enhanced agility, and can keep up with Kurt ("Hey!" Nightcrawler protested) when it comes to the wall walking department. What you have to watch out for is his frog tongue and the slime he spits.

"Rogue has a poison touch; she can drain you with just a little skin contact and charge herself up. With our kind she can also copy our powers for a while after absorbing. I really wouldn't call her dangerous though," Scott finished, glancing over to the two Brotherhood members.

"Hello, Rogue knocked you out during the fight with Blob!" Kurt objected.

"But she was the one to, like, actually beat him. We so owe her for that," Kitty countered, while gesturing for Kurt to keep it down.

"This is starting to sound complicated," Evan commented.

"You have no idea," Scott sighed picking at his own lunch.

_Bayville High School, Principal's Office:_

The Brotherhood lounged around the Principal's office. Toad and Rogue sat together where students were meant sit while awaiting the leisure of the faculty; there was neither cordiality nor tension as the two waited. Though, Toad backed down from his interest in an errant fly, having felt the weight of Rogue's gaze on his face. Avalanche leaned against the end of the secretary's desk, managing to intimidate the young woman despite the sling his arm was in. Fred Dukes leaned against the wall, squinting at his English textbook, trying to will the old fashioned English into something he could actually understand.

They all lifted their heads when they heard the office door close, none of them having realized it had opened. On the other side of the door John Lazarus released the handle and turned back to his seated colleague and the armored figure standing regally in the darkness dominating the office.

"You honor us with your presence my lord. It will do the recruits good to meet their true leader face to face," Blight declared, bowing a bit to Magneto.

"Your student body meeting isn't why I have come all this way. We have a new prospect, one who possess great potential," Magneto announced, his helm altering his voice into something more – and yet less – than human. With a flick of his hand he tossed a folder onto the table, which Mystique opened, revealing a picture and a profile. Lazarus' look darkened for a moment as his eyes skimmed the file.

"Pietro Maximoff. Hmm, it seems this young man is already quite powerful," Mystique observed, seeming to taste his name. Lazarus walked over to one of the closed windows without commenting.

"Yes, he is of particular interest to me. The Society has been watching him for some time, and now is the moment to bring him into the fold," Magneto continued.

"So we extend him the hand of friendship," Mystique answered. Lazarus barked in amusement at that, earning him a glare from Mystique. Magneto shook his head; it was unclear who he was admonishing.

"It will not be so easy. The boy is arrogant and believes he needs no one; we must be less direct if we are to bring him under Blight's tutelage," Magneto explained.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have him," Lazarus turned back to the other two mutants.

"It is not all the same to me, Mr. Lazarus. Pietro has potential and it needs to be cultivated. Are you not capable of that?" Magneto demanded.

"Well of course I am capable, but circumstances won't make it very possible. I know Pietro; he is too powerful, too young, and too full of himself. Bringing him around is possible but I would need time and have to focus on him almost exclusively, and I have a team to mind at the moment.

"And that's just it. I'm starting to make real progress with them as a group and individuals, throwing this arrogant speedster in now will disrupt the group dynamic and his impertinence could prove infectious," Lazarus explained, scratching his chin. Mystique made sure to hide her interest in this development, a recruit her rival was not confident he could control. This could prove quite useful to her.

"You will make do as you have in the past. I will trust to your judgment," Magneto waved off his concerns.

"Am I allowed to break him down?" Lazarus asked, the ghost of a grin playing across his face.

"No, his potential lies just as much in his mind as his ability. You will bring him 'around' as you say. And you will do it in such a way that he will be prepared for the test when the time comes," Magneto stated.

"Test?" Lazarus asked puzzled.

"Did I forget to pass that along?" Mystique asked herself aloud.

"To more current matters, we fortunately do have a means to influence this young man's movements to get him where we need him to be. For several years now our prospect has maintained a rivalry with one Evan Daniels," Magneto explained. Mystique grinned as the pieces began to fall into place.

"The student Xavier just enrolled here. The newest X-Man," she supplied.

"Yes, his presence here is a direct result of young Pietro's decision to turn their rivalry into a feud. Bring the two together and it is only a matter of time until Mr. Daniels takes the opportunity to… settle the score, as they say," Magneto informed them.

"I know just the way they can get their opportunity," Mystique smiled as her plan took shape. Lazarus kept a frown in place as he picked up the file, skimming its contents.

"_Why does he give me the son when it was the daughter I begged for?_" Lazarus pondered in his head.

"Well, since you're here, could you at least take a few minutes to review the troops?" Lazarus inquired. He closed the file and began to win his argument for boosting morale.

_

* * *

_

Danger Room, Afternoon:

Professor Xavier watched from the observation loft as Evan Daniels made his first run through the danger room. For once he was pleasantly surprised by the new recruit's performance. Logan – who was monitoring the controls – as often was the case, his mood was unreadable beyond a habitual irritation. Still, Xavier could feel the hue of even his senior instructor's well-guarded thoughts; his displeasure was not with the performance.

"None of the others have ever thought to use tools beyond their powers to increase their performance. Lateral thinking, quite impressive," Xavier mused. Evan did handle the skateboard in conjunction with his powers impressively, though the Professor would freely admit he lacked the knowledge to really judge skill with that device.

"His enthusiasm is a pleasant turn of events. I was expecting more intractability due to his involuntary arrival in regards to training," Xavier continued. Evan finally missed a beat in his offensive defense, blasted from his board. A timely intervention from Scott saved him from injury as Wolverine deactivated the simulation.

"Well he's not training up for us. Boy's looking to settle the score with whoever framed him for those lockers," Wolverine stated. Below them Scott seemed to be advising a brooding Evan on his performance, though the new recruit didn't seem inclined to listen.

"I agree, but hopefully the object of his ire is far away and the desire for vengeance will fade long before he has a chance to act on it. He has already entered the Bayville basketball team; in addition to his duties here he will hopefully be too preoccupied for this grudge to fester," Xavier explained, rolling away from the windows.

"Hmm, not sure about that Charles. I can't read minds but I know how people work, and porcupine here is just the type to obsess. Might be best to get it out of him before it goes too far and we have to pick up the pieces," Wolverine growled as he prepared to restart the training.

"With what little we know we-" Xavier began, before the door slid open. Kitty paused, realizing she had walked into something between the two faculty members.

"Uh, sorry for interrupting," she apologized, taking a half step back.

"It is not a problem, the door was unlocked. What can we do for you, as I recall you aren't scheduled for Danger Room training today," the Professor reassured the nervous student.

"Oh, Evan's coach called. Some game has been bumped up on the schedule tonight. He wants Evan over there, like, now," Kitty answered.

"An unscheduled basketball game on such short notice?" Xavier pondered, touching his chin.

"Yeah, the principal apparently threw it together real quick. It's against PS 104," Kitty continued.

"Evan's former school, interesting. Logan, shut down the room. Kitty, you can tell him over the intercom," Xavier instructed. He left the room as Kitty conveyed the news, and scowled when he was out of sight. The enemy was moving, and not stealthily. They had certainly known he would recognize this as their maneuver rather than some coincidence, and it likely had to do with the mutant who had framed Evan.

The question was how to intervene. Or even whether or not he should intervene, or let matters play out until he knew what was going on.

For now he would let Mystique and Lazarus have the initiative; he would put his X-Men in place in the event their skills were needed. This could make for an excellent opportunity to truly bring Ororo's nephew into the fold.

He would monitor the school through Cerebro, and see how much they had improved if it came to a fight against this possible hostile.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High School:

It was a beautiful night, the temperature was falling into a fine range and the skies were calm. It was the sort of night where one might walk around the back garden appreciating the sounds and stars or choose to take in some of Bayville's so called night life.

The school was abuzz with such an event, an out of conference game against another school. As it was short notice the crows would hardly be ideal, families of players, the dedicated basketball fans and a few students who finding no other distraction decide to attend on the spur.

Only one person really knew the real event tonight would have nothing to do with basketball.

Evan Daniels watched as the familiar bus rolled into the parking lot. For once in his life the pending game was totally irrelevant, the gym bag hanging from his shoulder holding a different kind of uniform. A little voice on his shoulder told him this was not a good idea, and was promptly ignored in favor of a louder voice in his gut calling for revenge.

Soon enough the bus halted and disgorged its passengers, he recognized them all, his former teammates. They seemed to be in good spirits; that hurt some – even if his reputation had been thrashed he had still been the hero of the court only days before. All thoughts on then were forgotten as a certain white haired player hopped from the bus, grinning. Why wouldn't he? He was probably acting like king of the court no and was certain he had gotten away clean with what he did.

"Hey old man!" Evan called out. Pietro stopped and turned with a look of some confusion on his face. The old taunt against him from Evan, mocking his hair color. He spotted Evan quickly and sauntered over his grin back in place.

"Daniels, heard you managed to dodge Juvie for the whole locker thing. This dump their idea of cruel and unusual punishment?" the speedster asked. Evan clenched his fist at the mockery coating the question.

"We both know you trashed those lockers, don't you have the balls to even come clean with someone who knows?" Evan demanded. Pietro seemed quite amused by his rivals escalating anger.

"Yeah Daniels, I trashed those lockers and swiped your cash; and lots more besides, like I said when you live fast it takes some effort to avoid boredom. You think you're going to do something about it?" he flicked the others boy's forehead. Evan slapped the hand away and fixed the other boy with a hard look.

"You always have been cocky. I've been getting ready for this rematch ever since you left me to take the fall," Evan growled, spikes bursting from his arms. Pietro wasn't fazed in the least, with a cry Evan swung at him the spike's extending to cut through wind. Pietro appeared a few steps back from where he had just been.

"Really Daniels it doesn't matter how good any moves you got are," Pietro taunted, as he blurred out of sight. Reappearing behind Evan he put some momentum into a one handed push sending him stumbling to one knee. "You can't touch me Daniels, but I can touch you. That's a fact that makes the outcome inevitable. Just quit while your, well not ahead, but at least have some dignity. Though, if you want me to take that too, it's fine with me."

Evan growled, his shirt ripping as new spikes grew, piercing it.

"What's going on here?" Scott called, out sprinting up to the confrontation. Jean, Kitty, and Kurt stopped behind him, watching Evan pull himself up, glowering at the white haired boy. Jean's eyes focused on Pietro, narrowing before they widened with recognition.

"Scott, he's the one," Jean told him and by extension everyone else present. Pietro frowned giving her an appraising look; Jean heard his thoughts slip from her grasp and the sound of a door slamming shut.

"Telepath huh, guess I have to reel my thoughts in, lame," Pietro griped.

"You're the one who framed Evan?" Scott demanded, stepping forward. Pietro sighed, rolling his eyes at the unfolding display.

"Yes, I framed the loser and it seems fate has granted his wish for a rematch/repeat. But you guys are mutants too right? What's the deal Daniels, you get press ganged by some organization in exchange for a get out of jail free card? You guys working for Magneto?" Pietro asked the X-Men.

"Who?" Kitty answered, puzzled.

"So you're not just sheep, you're blind sheep, or are you working for that self righteous wheelchair jockey?" Pietro continued. Jean glowered as she realized he was referring to her mentor.

"Listen, you can't abuse your powers like this, they're a responsibility," Scott pressed, stepping between Pietro and Jean.

"HA! I remember that, you must be the teacher's pet, no wonder you seem to be in charge here. I got news for you, I'm not on anyone's leash, I do what I want because rules only matter when there are consequences-" Pietro declared as he blurred out of sight. Kitty and Jean cried out, grabbing their rears where they had just felt a pinch. Pietro came back into focus roughly where he had started, a smug grin on his face.

"- and I'm Quicksilver. Which means I can out run any consequences, speaking of which; LATER!" the speedster cried. He vanished in a blue and white blur tearing down the street.

"He's not getting away this time," Evan vowed. Pulling his board and uniform out of the bag he started to head off after his enemy. He ignored Scott's call, changing as best he could on the fly. He might have what he needed already, but as a man he needed to prove he wasn't just smarter than the jerk.

A honking car horn pulled him from his thoughts as a familiar red car pulled up along side him. Sure enough Scott was driving, already switched to his visor and Kurt sat next to him talking on a cell phone.

"This might be a little faster than your board," Scott pointed out, gesturing for him to get in.

"Why are you getting involved?" Evan demanded.

"You're an X-Man Evan, we're a team. Letting someone got it alone just isn't how we do things," Scott answered smiling.

"Dudes, he's heading west now!" Kurt called out.

"The professor and Jean are tracking him, get in and we can head him off," Scott ordered. Evan hesitated for a moment, and then went over the top into the back seat, pulling the last of his uniform into place.

The sight of a car pulled over to try and block the road surprised Pietro into stopping, the wind from his passage blowing around him before evening out. He smirked when the two girls he pinched earlier got out in a uniform that reminded him a bit of the old days. Headlights illuminating him he turned to see another car come in behind him, the other half of the team no doubt.

"_Some people just don't learn,_" Pietro thought with some amusement. Both sides tried to take the measure of the other flanked in by the darkened storefronts of an almost quaint street.

"Box me in, you serious? You might as well be moving in slow motion when I step on the gas!" Pietro taunted. He made to move as the redhead raised her hand, only to find himself without traction. Looking down he saw he was floating well above the street.

"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?" Jean asked. She jerked him around to face towards Scott.

"Listen Maximoff, it would be best if you surrendered now. We can't have you tearing up the city like this, and right now you're an easy target. So easy way, or hard way?" Cyclops asked, raising a hand to his visor.

"Hmm, I'll take number three," Pietro announced. His arms turned to blurs, kicking up the wind again. Taken by surprise, Cyclops hesitated on the trigger, taking a step back and bracing against the onslaught of air as Evan and Nightcrawler shielded their eyes. As he fired off his blast a stray can hijacked by the wind struck him in the head, which turned reflexively with the hit.

The shot went wide, carving a path through the debris-ridden wind and passing just over Jean's head. It was enough distraction for the psy-based mutant to loose her grip on Quicksilver, who was moving the instant he touched the ground. Jean was knocked to her back, as the silver blur passed her, already losing consciousness. Pietro blurred back into sight on the sidewalk.

"Call me old fashion but I prefer seeing the country to flying," Pietro chuckled. Watching Kitty's anger, the red flash in his periphery was his only warning. He avoided most of the blast that destroyed a store window behind him, but the glancing blow sent him back into the bricks hard. Finally angered, Pietro glared back at the visored mutant before blurring again.

He anticipated the next blast, turning out of Scott's line of sight as red light cut through the night again. Homing in for another speed punch he was brought up short as spikes erupted in a half circle around Scott. Not stopping but clearly visible again he glared as Evan threw still more of his spears around the street forcing him to dodge.

Finally clear and heading for the other end of the roadblock, he started to build up speed only for a flash and puff of smoke to erupt in front of him. The blue elf in front of him was certainly new, and where the hell had he come from? Pietro ground to a halt, assuming a thoughtful pose.

"What are you supposed to be? A Smurf on steroids?" Pietro laughed at his own humor. His opponent grinning was not what he expected; he actually hesitated to respond to that disquieting sight, so Kurt answered him.

"Me? Vhy I'm just the distraction," the German mutant answered. Remembering what he was doing Pietro lunged forward, only to fall on his face with a cry of pain and confusion. Pulling himself up to his hands he looked down along his stomach and saw his feet sunken into the street past his ankles.

"What was that about me not being able to touch you?" Evan asked out of Pietro's sight. Pietro saw stars before darkness as Evan struck him over the head with the flat of a spike. Pietro's feet rose from the ground, thin fingers wrapped around his shoes, Kitty's head and the rest of her following as she let his feet drop. The boys looked at her in surprise when she delivered a short sharp kick to the downed mutant's side.

"That's for the harassment," she told Pietro and the others.

_A Short Time Later:_

Jean was awake, and quite ready to bind Maximoff tight with the steel cable from Scott's car. Even if he woke up before the police arrived he wouldn't be going anywhere with his legs and arms tied fast to a light post. Scott turned his attention to Evan, who as leaning against his car while the others watched Jean work.

"You did great Evan, thanks for the cover," Scott told him.

"It was nothing; dude likes cheap shots, saw it coming," Evan stated. Scott wondered what he was thinking, watching Quicksilver get bound up. Still, better tell him the bad news.

"Listen, we can't really charge him with the damage tonight, we have to keep the secret and no human could do this kind of damage," Scott told him reluctantly. He still felt raw for how Dukes was able to get away with kidnapping Jean because of the secrecy. Evan, however, smiled.

"Don't need too, Pietro already hung himself," Evan declared. Pulling out a tape recorder he played back his earlier conversation with the speedster, where the mutant confessed to his crimes quite blatantly.

"It will need a bit of editing, but that should do it. Let me erase the bit about powers and we'll leave it with him for the police," Scott smiled. At least Evan was getting justice; this should get his record cleared in no time.

"Man, sweet strategy Evan!" Kurt exclaimed. None of them had noticed the German come up to them and listen to the recording. Evan looked to his strange roommate with a grin.

"Not as good as what you and Kitty pulled. Man though, I was hoping I would be able to take him down man to man, guess I couldn't cut it," Evan lamented, expression falling some as he talked.

"Hey now, you did your part. That's the difference between being part of a team and working alone; it's not about what we each can do it's about what we all can do," Scott objected.

"Dude, that is corny enough for Saturday morning," Evan laughed. Still, he saw what the upperclassman meant; he had been thinking how he could use the others' powers to take down Pietro, and that was just what he had done. His old rival might have had the skills but that was all he had.

"Evan, we need to roll! Kitty just put the call in," Scott called, the other X-men already back in their cars. Evan took one last look at Pietro tied up defeated with the damning tape paid down in front of him, and then walked to Scott's car.

"Dude, call me Spyke," Evan told him as he took shotgun in the car. The X-Men vanished into the night, leaving Quicksilver to the approaching sirens. Unwitnessed save for one man hidden in the shadows of an alley.

"Excellent work, though this means more trouble down the line. It would seem you haven't waited so long in vain, heretic," the man murmured, before he too was lost to the darkness.

_

* * *

_

Bayville Police Department:

Pietro paced inside his cell grinding his teeth I frustration at the whole situation, and the X-Men in particular. X-Men… dumb name, someone had fried too many brain cells reading comic books to think that was a good idea. Damn, he could really go for turkey, pickle and cheese on rye right now. He zipped over to the bars and shook them with all the speed he could muster, to absolutely no avail.

"Let me out! You've got to let me out of here!" he cried with the distinct tone of the privileged that have been told _no_. This was unprecedented; ever since he got his power he had been free to do as he pleased – he was Quicksilver, he outran the consequences of his actions!

"The consequences have finally caught up with you Pietro," a deep, strong voice spoke out of the darkness. The white haired boy's head snapped up; he heard a door close and a powerfully built man with white hair and dressed in a fine brown jacket and black hat stepped into his line of vision. His father was aging remarkably well, he noted.

"You," Pietro put none of the resentment he felt into the word. He was too surprised at this turn of events.

"Hardly a fitting greeting after so long, without so much as a letter. I understand you have been… enjoying yourself since we parted ways," Erik Lehnsherr observed calmly.

"You mean since you dumped my sister in the loony bin and dropped me off at a flunky's doorstep," Pietro spat.

"There is nothing more that needs to be said regarding Wanda, I do not expect you to understand my reasons, much less forgive my actions. However, I object to the idea that 'I dumped you'.

"You wanted to be away from me after what happened and I respected your wish, leaving you in the care of a man I trust. Gordon has been good to you and I have kept silent and distant from your life letting the man who raised who be the judge of your actions," Magneto explained.

"Until now?" Pietro wondered aloud.

"Until now. Regardless of your pedigree I cannot allow someone of your ability to run wild. You have already needlessly endangered a secret much has been sacrificed to keep. And now you face prison, they have taken your fingerprints, they will find you guilty of the crimes at your school and how many other unsolved thefts and acts of vandalism," Erik continued.

"And you can get me out of this?" Pietro smirked at the older man.

"Yes, but this time my favor carries a price. Your time of leisure and privilege is finished Pietro, if not as my son then at least as a mutant you have an obligation to aid the cause. Your allegiance from this hour onward is the price of freedom," Magneto stated.

"Fine, I have a score to settle with Daniels' new pals anyway. I knew it was only a matter of time after I got fast till you showed up; finally one of your children is good enough for you, eh?

"Well don't stand there! You want my word you have it, now do your thing and get me out of here!" Pietro yelled, using his feet to brace as he tugged on the bars. He backed off as Magneto raised a hand towards the steel bars, only to let it fall with a grin.

"So impatient and angry, you let those vices cloud your mind. Breaking you out of jail would only make matters more complicated. Anger is fine so long as it drives you to climb, but that impatience is unacceptable. My associates will begin your education in that regard. Be well Pietro," the father bide farewell to his son walking down the hallway, his footfalls mingling with others drawing near.

A prim and proper woman with brown hair and wire rim glasses stepped into sight and sized up the young man.

"Good evening Mr. Maximoff, I am Alice Beseler, let's talk about your case," she greeted him. He didn't hear her as his eyes bugged out at her companion.

"Oh crap," Pietro cursed.

"It's been quite awhile Pietro, you've gotten taller," Lazarus grinned, showing off his teeth.

* * *

_Love it or hate it, please review it!_


	9. Tension

_**Disclaimer**__: I don not own X-Men Evolution. Oh what I would make for the telly if I had that kind of wealth and industry connection, why do you torment me with thoughts of what will never be? !_

Betaed efficiently by Zim'smostloyalservant.

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**A Tense Incident**

The gentle light of morning was beginning to invade the Brotherhood House, as the third one to rise this morning emerged from her room with a creak of the door. Rogue's pale tones were more evident without her makeup, blue veins and dark arteries not blatant but distinct on the back of her hands and wrists along her arms and about her face and neck in a few places. What's more, without the additional makeup there was no confusing the tone for anything artificial. If there was more to make her appearance out of the ordinary it was well hidden by a long dark gray nightgown and matching slippers.

Rogue was not and never had been a morning person; this was evident in her only being roughly three quarters awake as she emerged from her room into the hallway that dominated the second floor of the Brotherhood House. The floor creaked slightly at her passing, unnoticed with the familiarity of her routine. She still lamented her tradition of sleeping in, favoring a rushed breakfast and morning ritual in exchange for a few more minutes of blissful slumber.

Yet the crispy object of her resentment saw fit to deny her of that in increasingly rude ways. Rogue prided herself on not making waves; she walked outside the mainstream without wanting to mess with it with the understanding that it didn't mess with her. Now she was subject to the whimsy on a man who not only walked outside every stream she could think of, but took delight in fording all barriers in order to take a piss in the different currents.

Shuddering at the image of Lazarus undoing his trousers, Rogue wrapped her arms around herself. Though, the shiver may have been the result of the man sneaking up behind her instead. The boards did not creak for him, and his step was sober with the economy of movement that is the province of veterans and physical performers.

Her first clue something was wrong was when something dark passed down in front of her face. The blink of confusion that was her response as something fell against the base of her neck cost her. It was enough time for the belt to be moved through its buckle, and a smooth swift motion that could not properly be called a jerk drew it taut about her neck.

Now, her mind screamed danger, fires of panic burning away fatigue as the leather tightened over her throat. Reflexively her hand flew to the belt serving as a garrote, fingers scrapping against it and her neck searching for leverage. They found none as it dug into her flesh. Her foot stomped down but clad with only a slipper it did nothing against the sturdy boot of her assailant.

"That will never do, I'm stronger and the angle is against you. Not to mention you would be loosing strength by the second if I tightened it enough to actually choke you," Lazarus commented idly to her. Hissing in fury Rogue struck back over her head, grabbing… a handful of cloth?

"Better, but useless when the attacker is prepared. Your magnificent trump foiled by a humble ski mask. Boots, gloves, mask – in addition to the usual attire of men in the business world – leaves no exposed skin. Simple things yet they render your vast potential mundane as any human's. Your potential in life so easily snuffed out," Lazarus sarcastically lamented. The belt loosened suddenly, and Lazarus let her stumble forward coughing, the belt still loosely dangling about her neck. She frantically massaged her neck, whether from pain or to reassure herself of its freedom, probably a bit of both. Rogue whirled to face her attacker, the motion jogging the belt alerting her to its presence. Eyes widened at the realization she ripped it from her neck and threw it to the ground, the metal buckle banging on the wood.

Raising her head, she saw Lazarus holding the piece of cloth that had shielded his face from her, the other hand holding his trademark hat. She could see why he wore it; like her eyeliner and lipstick the hat and glasses drew attention a bit away from how ugly he really was, she thought. Pressing his hat back down on his ravaged scalp he turned his attention back to Rogue.

"You're insane," Rogue spat at him. Lazarus gave one of his grins in answer, brushing nonexistent dust off his jacket.

"No, I'm experienced. I have told you of the need for constant vigilance, and it has been to no avail. In storytelling and in teaching showing is vastly more effective than merely telling. Had I been a real assassin you would be dead. The garrote wasn't even needed, the practical approach would have been snapping that alabaster neck of yours," Lazarus explained unapologetically.

"Somehow I don't see the X-Men ambushing me on the way to the morning wash," Rogue huffed, turning to leave. She nearly jumped when a hand clamped down on her shoulder, stopping her. Glancing to the side she saw the instructor's gloved hand gripping her; she almost wondered if he was like that new guy.

"Aye, the X-Men aren't of that bend I'll grant you. But Xavier is; I wear this hat near every waking moment and never go far from it, because it keeps Charlie out. He got into my head once and he did many things to me to get the information that he wanted. It was quite surprising, and a bit depressing. I met with him alone because I thought he was an idealist and would sooner die than sink to my level. But he had Logan with him, and all it took was him knocking this hat off and I had to fight a loosing battle in my own head.

"I cannot beat Logan; I could in my heyday but that is long past. Had I not been caught flatfooted I could have escaped though. Instead, Xavier got the information he wanted; he did not pry beyond that for reasons known only to him and left me insensible for my own telepaths to put back together," Lazarus explained.

"But that was just stupid for me. You see, your enemies are never more vulnerable than when they think they are safe. During the Gempei Wars the Genji won a major victory against a greater force by charging their cavalry down a near vertical incline. Their Heike foes thought their position secured and were unprepared mentally and materially for a serious threat.

"More relevantly the best place to attack someone is when they are in place they are comfortable and familiar with. And routine tasks are the best time. If you aren't prepared at times like this you are merely waiting for someone to place the knife in your back.

"I know Rogue, I have been on both sides in these scenarios. Call me crazy, so long as you learn 'crazy' will do," Lazarus stated gravely. He released her shoulder and Rogue turned to watch him stalk down the hall until he vanished into the open door of his own room. The door closing behind him was the first sound he made.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High School, Later:

Rogue had left the shelter of the trees, driven away by the proximity of a group of freshmen girls giggling about something. Lord she hated girly giggling; even gross guy stuff fell second to girly girl stuff in her lists. She had already eaten her lunch and had been enjoying the Poe collection Irene had given her for her last birthday. She wasn't about to occupy the outdoor eating area – too sunny – and inside was too noisy. So book tucked under arm she searched for a spot to get a little more reading in before being pulled back into the belly of the school system.

Opportunity presented itself in a stairway leading down into what she assumed was the basement. Not the shadiest spot but at least it was isolated. After checking to make sure it wasn't too dirty Rogue took a seat on a step and cracked open her book to once more read of a fat king and a jester named Hopfrog.

She was torn from the plan for the king's orangutan costume when she heard something.

She knew she had heard something; there was no question about that. It had come from beyond the doors at the bottom of the stairs.

"Is someone down there? !" she called out. Rogue walked down the stairs, staring hard at the doors below with narrowed eyes as if it would make the dusty windows clear. When she got close enough to actually start to wipe the windows the doors swung out with a boom to hit her. It surprised her more than anything, the pain already fading as she rubbed her arm, which took the doors' jumping blow.

Quite intrigued, she pulled the doors open and walked into the slightly smoky basement, glancing around for the source of the previous boom. A groan drew her attention to the side; she heard something shifting and walked towards the sound. She stifled a gasp at the sight of Kurt Wagner, uncloaked, lying amidst a pile of broken boxes.

"_He must have been sent flying and they broke his fall,_" she thought, glancing back the way he presumably came from. Sure enough, there was another doorway in the right place.

"Are you alright? What happened?" Rogue asked, stirring him with a hand to his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and he took her in with an unfocused gaze.

"Lab, booby trapped, should have paid more attention in computer class," Kurt groaned, before squeezing his eyes shut. He seemed to not be in any great trouble, so Rogue rose and cast an appraising look towards the mystery door.

"Lab huh? Let's see what that's about," she said to herself. Leaving the X-Man behind, she went to see what had been the cause of the ruckus.

The doors had been blasted open; one launched like the blue X-Man across the floor, the other hanging off its hinges. Something crinkled under foot; looking down she saw a sign that read "Keep Out", which presumably had been affixed to the door. Considering the outcome of the trespassing she thought some stronger wording should have been in order: "Trespassers Will be Blown Up!", she pictured one of the orange and red signs.

She was only hesitant in watching where she stepped entering the room. She doubted there were any more traps after that one, besides they would have been blown up too.

"Whatever this place was it's thrashed now," Rogue observed. Though the equipment was reduced to twisted metal and sparking ruins she could still tell it had been something impressive. The sort of thing from those sci-fi movies; it made her irrationally wish she had watched more of them as if it would provide insight.

"Just what was going on here?" she wondered aloud. This wasn't school stuff – was this some X-Men or Hidden Society site? She knew little about her own side in this beyond its name and the three members she had met. So for all she knew, Bayville might have been involved with this mutant stuff for decades.

Her musings were interrupted by the sight of something strange, something that wasn't broken. It was… well, she didn't know how to describe it. The table it sat on was metal and bolted to the ground; it must have been, to not be overturned. The device was like a dome; with an exit port sticking out what she presumed was the front and two handles protruding from the sides with a set of buttons inlaid near the dome.

She decided to take it; finder's keepers may sound immature but it was generally valid. It could be something cool or valuable judging by where she found it. After all, whoever built that bomb had wanted to keep people from touching their stuff; you don't guard nickels, you guard gold, and as far as Rogue was concerned she was overdue some of the shiny stuff.

The first thing that struck her picking it up was that it was made of metal; it was too heavy to be made of the same plastic that encased it. The second thing was when it was almost jerked from her hands. She was quite surprised to see the German X-Man up and about and trying to steal from her. She jerked back knowing he would 'port away with it if she let go.

"Give it back!" he demanded.

"What makes you think its yours? !" Rogue demanded. She put her weight into pulling back with her whole body, making some use of her training. Rogue barely noticed her finger pressing down the button as Kurt lost his grip and she stumbled back. She did notice the ** sound coming from the gun and a look of clear distress on her opponent's face.

Light shot out of the device she held, a dome of rippling air and crackling visible energy surrounded Nightcrawler. He yelled something she couldn't hear, and then the dome collapsed on itself with a pop and a flash. For some reason, her first thought was it didn't leave behind smoke like he did. Her next thought was the apparent outcome of the accidental discharge, and the device fell to the floor with a thunk from her numb fingers.

With a trembling hand, she stepped to where he had been standing and ran the gloved appendage through the sparkling dust that was falling. She had no idea what she was expecting but as the glitter vanished leaving no trace of the boy she felt a terrible weight pressing down on her.

"He's… he's gone," she muttered with eerie calm. Before she even brought her hands to her mouth she was sagging forward, loosing her undigested lunch.

* * *

Rogue was biting her lip as she sweated bullets, the infernal device dangling from the end of the steel rod she had found in the basement. She was thankful classes were in; the campus seemed deserted, perfect for her to dump it. And she had to get rid of it – she had killed Kurt, an X-Man. Even shoving down revulsion for the accident, her heartbeat filled her ears at the thought of the other X-Men.

She remembered the night her powers manifested, Jean and Wolverine hunting and hurting her, how Scott readily shed his Boy Scout persona for something much more dangerous at the very idea of Jean being in danger. And even Lazarus, recalling the torture he endured under the X-Men's leader.

There was no doubt in her mind that if they discovered her crime, it would be the end for her. So into the dumpster with the evidence! The guy was vaporized so there was nothing to connect her… oh, she felt sick again.

Toad was already in a bad mood. Not only did he miss out on that sweet beetle, Mystique got in his face over her car. If he hadn't been going to slime it before he sure as hell was now. Mulling over possible vengeance he made his way to the dumpster, which was usually good for some flies.

He was quite surprised to see someone was already at the dumpster – Rogue. The Goth had clearly just lost her lunch, which piqued his interest. At the very least this could be a good chance to rib the sole girl on his team.

"Yo, Rogue. What's the matter, try the mystery meat?" Toad chuckled, walking up to her. Pulling her head up she gave him one of the drop-dead looks he had long since grown accustomed to. Her gaze shifted and for the first time he noticed the… well, round plastic thing. Frowning, he reached for it.

"Don't touch it!" Rogue screamed at him. Toad jerked back and nearly jumped at the urgency in her voice.

"Why, what is this, Atari tech?" Toad asked, kneeling down to look at it.

Emboldened by fear, Rogue tentatively picked up the device by the handle that was on top of it and dropped it into the dumpster.

"Never you mind. Forget you saw it," Rogue muttered, before walking off quickly. Toad looked to the dumpster and grinned; what did he have here he wondered?

* * *

Rogue made her way through the hallway, not to far from the lockers one hand held out, ready to steady her. The movies were full of shit; she didn't feel like anything but crawling into a hole and curling up. She could call Lazarus she supposed, but what would he even do? No, it was better to keep this to herself, she decided as she shakily unlocked her locker.

"Back off slim!" Blob commanded down the hall. Looking around her locker door, Rogue saw what was clearly going to be a fight breaking out. Dukes was holding Scott clear off the ground with one hand, while Alvars was facing down Jean.

"Back off Red, I don't need two arms to rock you," Lance declared. Clenching his good hand, Rogue felt her locker vibrate. The other students were apparently oblivious, rallying around and calling for a fight. A part of her understood their eagerness; it was like Grease or something, the Brotherhood of Rejects going up against the Institute's cream of the crop.

"What is going on here? !" a matronly voice edged with authority cut through the chanting. The student crowd quickly dissolved as the Principal cut through their ranks like Moses parting the Red Sea. Dukes recognized it was over and actually put Summers down rather than dropping him, turning his attention to their principal/sometimes-boss.

"We weren't doing nothing, he attacked Lance," Blob explained. He hardly sounded apologetic.

"Yeah, Summers just went ballistic all of a sudden," Lance threw his piece in. Even under normal circumstances it would not look good with Lance's injury, and Mystique was not about to pass up a petty strike at her enemies.

"I don't care who started it, you two come with me now," Mystique demanded. The two X-Men followed her past Rogue, who did her best to hide behind her locker. Neither of them saw her she was certain; Scott was closest and his set jaw indicated his thoughts were preoccupied.

"Finally, hope they like suspension," Lance laughed.

"Not being allowed in school, how's that punishment?" Blob asked, whether seriously or jokingly Rogue and Lance couldn't tell.

"What was that about?" Rogue asked, stepping out from her locker. She walked up to the two Brotherhood boys, Lance not really caring and Blob irritated she hadn't stepped up when the fight was about to start. He didn't particularly like Lance, but you look out for your crew the boss told him.

"Eh, they misplaced their elf and thought we had something to do with it," Lance brushed it off.

"Yeah, as if we would talk even if we did do something," Blob added before following Dukes. Rogue gulped, turning to look where the two X-Men had walked off. They knew, and they were close to the mark.

* * *

Sometimes the universe throws you a freebie, Toad thought as he looked around Mystique's newly pristine office. Blue bitch had been hounding him since day one, now he finally had some leverage for serious payback. And man oh man was he loving it. Blight would probably even approve; it was obvious the tension between the two was more than professional.

Now he had only one item left on his list – the car. And it wasn't even like he was breaking his word; he wouldn't be getting slime on it after all! Then he promised himself it was straight back to the house to turn this gizmo over to Blight for at the least brownie points and at best cash moneys. The sound of Mystique's ever ill-tempered voice spurred him from the thought of rewards to a hasty retreat.

Tolansky was fortunate that in her shock and outrage, Mystique made an uncharacteristic mistake of failing to note the open the window. Less fortunately, two X-Men had lingered in the room and observed both his gleeful disposal of his superior's car and a glimpse of their vanished comrade's predicament.

* * *

To say Scott Summers was having a bad day would be an understatement. His attempts at keeping his team's priorities grounded had backfired with him offending Kurt. While Scott knew his own points had been valid, Jean had pointed out he had failed to fully consider Kurt's view.

Namely that Kurt would not let the touching hazard deter him because it was his first real party prospect. With him coming to school everyday it was easy to forget his… unique, appearance had forced him to live in social isolation until recently. Scott's optic issues paled in comparison. Though the danger was real Kurt deserved more consideration than a casual expectation for him to fall into line.

And Scott for the second time was looking down the line at the possibility of not being able to take back words he regretted.

As if that were not enough, Toad of all people was giving them the run around.

It wasn't that he thought it would be easy to catch someone as agile as Tolansky, but he figured it was only a matter of time with the team after the lone mutant – well, the team minus Kurt.

It was a sign of good training that Kitty and Evan had been able to get out of class and out to join the pursuit so quickly. Sure, they would get in trouble, but the Professor's influence would curb whatever the principal threw at them; besides he would gladly get expelled if it helped Kurt out of… whatever it was he was in.

Toad had broken off from open ground once he saw they were after him. That had seemed like a good thing, as he wouldn't have that speed advantage in the woods. But it seemed the little reptile was thinking for once; he was actually up in the branches and making better time than they were through the undergrowth.

"Always good to be on top of things!" Tolansky taunted. He gave a shriek as a crimson blast ripped through the foliage next to him. Kitty was keeping up the best, but she couldn't bring him down. And Jean couldn't hover as fast as he could walk. Spyke's powers were also unreliable, their course being diverted or outright blocked by the trees.

"Can't touch this, X-Geeks!" Toad called out, his bravado healing rapidly. He didn't shriek this time as an optic blast cut through the wood, but he did drop a curse as it didn't cut off and carved a rough circle out of the canopy.

Toad cried out as he frantically leapt about for purchase as the canopy collapsed around him. His frantic evading served him well enough to get clear of the collapse, landing on the turf with a skid.

"Whew, that was too close to Toad soup for comfort," Tolansky sighed in relief. A whistling sound was his only warning as spikes lodged into the ground around him. Looking up he saw Spyke floating in the air grinning while giving the victory sign. Toad also realized the spikes were angled to close the top – he was caged.

"Back yo! You want to see what this thing can do too people? !" Toad threatened, pointing the device at Cyclops, Jean and Evan as they walked up to him.

"_Wait a minute,_" he thought, "_someone's missing._"

Releasing the grip his right hand had on the machine he struck backward with his elbow, and was rewarded with a hit to Kitty Pryde's stomach as she snuck up behind him.

"Shadowcat!" the redhead cried out as the freshman cried out and fell back against the spike bars. With a raised hand she jerked the device out of his hand and turned it on its side pulling it through the bars. Toad lunged for it, throwing himself against the bars as he realized his trump card was slipping away. Not enough; his fingertips scrapped the plastic but not nearly enough to get a grip. Looking back he saw Shadowcat had phased through the bars and was holding where he had elbowed her at a safe distance.

Now he really was caught.

"About what you said, what this can do to a person. We were wondering if you could tell us?" Jean asked as she picked the device out of the air and started looking it over.

"We want answers! What happened to Kurt? !" Scott demanded less diplomatically.

"You want answers? I want my lawyer! This is harassment, I've got rights ya know," Toad declared, crossing his arms.

"Swamp breath, I got your rights right here," Evan answered stonily. He sprouted as many spikes as he could, getting the point across as he resembled Logan's nickname for him. Kitty stepped to the side, making her way around behind the other X-Men as the confrontation took on a different tone.

It was the weight of Scott's hidden glare that made Toad decide pride wasn't worth the beating he was likely to get.

"Okay, don't spaz out, geez. I don't know nothing about the hairy gecko, I just been getting even with her royal bitchiness and figured I could score with my boss for delivering some goods. I don't even know what that thing really is," Toad admitted.

"He's telling the truth," Jean admitted.

"Like, where do you even get something like that?" Kitty asked.

"I found it in the dumpster, who knows how it got there," Toad answered hastily.

"The first part is true, but he does know something," Jean reported, glaring at the captured foe.

"This isn't a game Tolansky, our friend is in trouble. If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem," Scott declared. Tolansky looked to the side, obviously trying to decide the course of action he should take.

"Rogue, he's thinking about Rogue," Jean declared as Toad's eyes widened.

"Hey! Don't go plucking thoughts from my head! Get back here and let me out!" Toad cried out as Scott told the others to find Rogue. As they ran off Toad hurled insults at them as he tried to pry a spike from the ground. With them out of sight he got an idea he knew he was likely to regret. He pulled out a large black cell phone from a pouch on his suit and dialed Lazarus' number.

* * *

They found Rogue quick enough – Jean scanned for her. Since she wasn't familiar with the feel of the Brotherhood girl's mind it would have been difficult, if her mental distress wasn't so potent as to make her stand out. The Goth girl was sitting in Lance's jeep, her usual shotgun position, leaning forward with her head resting against the dashboard.

"Rogue," Scott greeted her curtly as the X-Men walked up to the jeep. Exhaustion had overcome paranoia as Rogue had settled into her poor hiding place. The terror leapt back to the forefront as her head snapped up to the suited-up X-Men surrounding the jeep. She tried to leap up only to be held back by the seat belt she had put on in her mentally exhausted state. The X-Men would have found her slip up amusing under other circumstances.

"I didn't mean to, it was an accident!" she cried out pleadingly. Her apparent terror took them aback; she looked as if she thought they were going to eat her. Though Jean had seen something like this in Baton Rouge, and realized what she felt coming off the other mutant was terror and guilt rolled into one.

"We need you to tell us what happened," Jean asked. She reached into the car but pulled her arm back as Rogue flinched away from her. Instead she used her power to unbuckle the seat belt for Rogue. Relieved at some confinement removed, Rogue got the message and opened the door, leaning against it as she stood in the parking lot trembling, recounting her fateful meeting with Kurt.

* * *

_Bayville High School Basement, Shortly:_

"This is the place, right about there I think," Rogue told the X-Men, gesturing to where she was certain the air had glittered. She wanted out of here; she had tried to leave when she told them the story but Jean had lifted her out of her tracks and told her to show them the lab. Then after getting here it was what part of the lab.

Rogue didn't need to be telepath to feel the anger coming off the newest X-Men. The silver ass on her own team had talked about Daniels – it wasn't good. Not that she trusted that jerk's word; he had a police collar around his ankle! But still she had little doubt that he and Scott would take frustration out on her if something didn't go right. And there was no escaping with Jean probably eavesdropping on her thoughts.

"You mean he may not be dead?" Rogue asked for the third time.

"Yes, if he was dead he would have no presence. You just trapped him somewhere and we need to get him out," Jean tried not to spit. She had already been over this twice with the girl; she guessed it wasn't just dumb boys over at the Brotherhood House.

"Not that we'll be getting any clues out of this. Sherlock himself would just call this busted crap," Spyke commented, taking a closer look at the ruined computers. Rogue found herself thinking that Sherlock Holmes probably never used that word in any story.

"Well don't go blaming me for that. The elf popped in here on his own and apparently it self destructed… guess they really didn't want anyone poking around," Rogue defended herself.

"Maybe because they didn't want anyone having accidents with dangerous machines," Scott mused. He hadn't meant it as an accusation – he was honestly wondering what Kurt had stumbled on beneath their school. However, to Rogue's guilt-tinged ears, the words were as condemning as could be.

"Trespassing tends to bear consequences Mr. Summers. Particularly when you trespass against those under another's protection," a faintly accented voice called through the basement gloom.

The X-Men hurried from the lab back into the main area of the basement. Rogue followed, peering around the doorway. She could see Lazarus standing near the foot of the stairs, flanked by Blob and Toad; he had donned a black great coat buttoned up, and while his arms were crossed she could tell his feet were placed to move quickly. She could almost see him sizing up the X-Men and the room, and then felt his gaze land on her.

"Are you alright Rogue?" he asked, a clear edge to his voice as she felt that weight leave her. The smell of smoke, burned metal and plastic seemed to grow sharper the tension of the confrontation gripped everyone in the gloom.

"It was an accident, I didn't know what it was," Rogue reiterated like a caught child, not looking back up.

"You didn't answer your cell. Toad told me they were coming for you. Are you alright?" Blight pressed, staring down Cyclops with his own shrouded eyes.

"I feel sick, but they didn't hurt me," Rogue managed. Lazarus gave a barely perceivable nod to that, not breaking the contact with Cyclops.

"She comes with us," Lazarus told the X-Men. It was a statement of fact; he wasn't giving them any choice in the outcome, only what path lead to such an inevitable conclusion. Scott's pride bristled at being discounted, but then he chanced a glance back at the potential enemy in his rear. And found no threat, just someone confused and scared.

Last time, Mystique planted those emotions in Rogue with her tricks. He didn't give up on her because no one should pick sides based on a lie. But this time, had they come close to doing what Dukes did to Jean? That thought chilled him to the marrow, and he knew there was only one thing he could do.

"Okay, we're not holding hostages," Scott agreed. He heard Rogue step forward tentatively and saw her walk past him gingerly. Her pace quickened as she turned and looked back after passing Blight. Some of the tension leaked away as one side gave in, but it did not dispel entirely.

"Very good, you may truly have a future leading. Now let's see that trinket I have heard so much tell about," Lazarus commented, looking to the device held in Jean's hands.

"No way man," Spyke answered for his leader.

"This thing could be key to getting Kurt back, we're not about to hand it over," Scott supported his teammate's assertion.

"So, Herr Wagner did get zapped by said device. From what I gather that trinket is from the 70s… I know only one man who could fashion such a wonder from that era. It would be best if you hand such _sinister_ leavings over to me, the lads in R&D will figure it out – or would you gamble his life on your own ignorance?" Blight asked, applying a reasoning tone.

Scott's reply was forestalled when Kurt appeared between the two parties.

"Reset don't-!" he yelled before flashing out of sight again.

"How now, what was that apparatus he was wearing?" Blight asked as the smoke cleared. Scott took the device from Jean and saw a button labeled 'reset'.

"There's a reset button here, I think he wants us to push it," Scott mused.

"He said don't, as in don't reset it. I say we smash it and that will get him out," Spyke interjected. Lazarus gave a barking laugh.

"Daniels, I expected better after what I heard from Pietro! Smash it, heh, if you're even considering such plebian approaches it would be best to hand it over to the grown ups, now," Lazarus chuckled, through the last word was quite serious. Scott looked back at the device, considering the button.

"That might work Summers, but it's your comrades life. Surely surrendering a piece of tech is worth his safety?" Blight asked. Scott placed the device on the floor and pushed the button.

"I see that man has taught you well, you are a leader," Lazarus admitted. When nothing happened Lazarus stepped forward, reaching into his coat with his right hand.

"Well seems you blundered, will I be having that trinket now or must there be more lessons?" Blight inquired. The air sparked and distorted, Lazarus stopping in his tracks as the air ripped open and a chair flew at him. He sprang out of the chair's path, which made it easier to roll from the path of the car that roared into the basement. The vehicle impacted with the sound of crumpling steel and engines dying down. Blob stood in a defensive stance, the front of the car curled around him in a dent, Toad and Rogue peering around him unharmed.

"Well done Dukes, and hallo to you Herr Wagner, welcome back to the land of the living," Lazarus commented, dusting himself off.

"Wow, talk about a wild ride," Nightcrawler blurrily proclaimed as he stumbled out of the car. Another young man, this one with dark hair, light brown skin, and out of date apparel came out the opposite door, also unsteady but quite pleased looking.

"And you are?" Blight asked, walking up to the stranger as Shadowcat hugged Kurt while Sypke slapped him on the back.

"I'm Forge, I'm the second person you've meet that can make a wonder with the seventies," Forge grinned at the old mutant, steadying himself on the car.

"Indeed; are you a Nephilimon, a mutant as Xavier's people would say?" Lazarus pressed, clearly intrigued.

"Got it in one, but seriously Kurt told me about you. No supremacists for me thanks, had enough of that stuff back in the day," Forge politely waved him off.

"Oh well, take a card anyway. Tomorrow always brings change; you may find my people quite receptive of your talents, and may find yourself in need of them," Lazarus was unperturbed, handing Forge a business card from some pocket.

"Ah man, the ray's busted," Toad whined. Sure enough the car had run over the device, its ruins splattered and shattered across the floor. Lazarus did not seem to upset while the X-Men were relieved the dangerous device was out of commission.

"Well it seems there is no need for further confrontation, Brotherhood withdraw," Blight commanded. Toad and Blob turned and made their way back up the stairs without further comment while Lazarus gave a final knowing grin to Forge. Rogue was the only one to hesitate.

"Rogue?" Lazarus queried as he looked back from the foot of the steps.

"Can I… have a moment?" Rogue asked him. Lazarus looked at her, then the X-Men; he nodded before walking up the stairs, though they could hear it wasn't all the way.

"I'm glad you're alright. I didn't mean to… you know," Rogue apologized to Kurt, eyes cast down. She jumped as he 'ported right in front of her; he looked seriously into her face for a minute before giving a small smile.

"Thanks, it worked out, for me it's no harm no foul," the furred teenager stated. Rogue didn't smile in return but it was clear the tension was leaving her. With a nod to him she turned and walked up the steps where Blight was waiting.

"Thanks," she muttered to him, before ascending the rest of the way.

"Lass, it's what you should expect," he said to no one in particular as he made to follow.

_

* * *

_

_**AN:** What's this another chapter this? ! Have you stumbled into an alternate universe eerily similar to your own with the exception of timely updates from EK? ! No, just felt like writing another one. Next chapter is "Turning Point", in which we can harvest some of the butterfly's fruit and see what it tastes like at last._

**Please Review!**


	10. Turning Point

**Disclaimer:** I do not own X-Men: Evolution, and the law probably says I don't own the OCs either. The law may not like me.

**AN**: _I know it is "Principal Darkholme" in the canon, but I can't use that since Rogue is already on the record in this story as having the last name Darkholme._

**AN2: **_I have put up the first story art for my account on my profile. A sketch of Blight, a.k.a. John Lazarus, drawn by Dalgaroth._

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Turning Point

Nothing… it was the most casual of observations. No light, no sound, black emptiness extended on forever. All seemed as it should be.

But still, it was not so? Yes, a faint sound, steady and rhythmic, though how could it be known as such with nothing to compare it to? The question was troubling, and the feeling was more so. If feeling anything was possible that meant she was not "nothing" herself but something.

She? A word from nowhere, what meaning it had was unknown only that it was her, She. If She was not nothing, then the emptiness was not truly empty. Where before the vacuum had been regarded with ambivalence, merely a part of She, now it was foreign and intimidating. The sound became the only comfort, but as she willed herself to listen it was gone!

This continued for a length of time until despair and something else caught her focus, a fuzziness of thought, a sense of… discomfort? It returned with the lapse, but far quicker and much less elegant. It was part of her! This brought pride at the act of possession, She was what She heard.

But wasn't there more? Yes, She was quite certain something was missing. It was obvious when She found the answer; if the silence was false in its absoluteness then perhaps the darkness was as well.

Without knowing She had them She opened her eyes, and screamed as sensation flooded her.

"Hopscotch, and you're back," Lazarus' voice cut through the sound. Rogue slumped forward, grateful to be sitting or she would have fallen for sure. Lifting her hand she brushed some errant hair from her face; she was gaining increased appreciation for having a body, even one as pale and weak as hers.

"You actually gained the will to open your eyes this time, that is quite the milestone," Lazarus commented, handing her a cup of tea from the set placed between the two of them. They were sitting in the basement training room, each in a lotus position with a tray of tea and sandwiches set down between them. Rogue grabbed a ham sandwich, even relishing the sour crunch of the pickles as she bit into it. The burned man grinned at the appetite; the flood of sensation always induced a state of hunger, that never changed regardless of the level you gained.

The student and teacher were seated across from one another in the basement training room. He had sent the lads about other tasks since this was a form of training meant for only two.

"So you scaring the shit out of me will help me keep Jean out of my head?" Rogue demanded around the food.

"The Oblivion Trance reduces you to a facsimile of nothing where in you are barely self aware. The only mean means of escape are to be released by the caster, a telepath, or by achieving self-recognition. Starting from nothing you remember who you are. This training will make it be possible for you to distinguish between yourself and foreign presences within you.

"Namely telepaths, and your detection ability will increase as you draw closer to self-recognition. And just as importantly as the process goes on you will be able to start erecting mental defenses to ideally prevent intrusions, though the potency of such barriers can vary widely. We won't really know what you are capable of in that regard until you are able to claw your way back from the edge and speak aloud.

"Did you get past 'I' this time?" Lazarus inquired, sipping his tea.

"I was She in there," Rogue answered.

"That's a big improvement. Sexual identity is the gateway to much of your greater identity when you realize it. I'm just glad it wasn't 'He', I've worked with some trans over the years but frankly I am getting too old for the extra drama on top of mutations," Lazarus sighed as Rogue almost choked on her mouthful. As she finished her sandwich and tea Lazarus stood up, replacing his own cup.

"Well your mind needs some recuperation time before we try that again. Having achieved that much distinction you may be able to detect a clumsy entrance, but you are leagues away from preventing an incursion.

"It's time we did some more physical training," Lazarus announced.

"I thought you said I couldn't get any further without absorption?" Rogue queried as she got up.

"I said you couldn't get any further as a fighter right now. Your puberty is still not finished and you may develop in a way that will lend itself to some style. But with your limited endurance you will lose a fair fight against most anyone with combat competence. So let's talk dirty fighting," Lazarus grinned.

"I'm not exactly a girl scout Blight," Rogue rolled her eyes.

"I'm not talking about kicking a lad in his jewels Rogue, though that is a valid tactic. Your trick is touching someone, or creating an opening so you can touch them. Your goal when you have nothing absorbed is a one shot one kill, so to speak. Now the first and best way is using stealth to surprise…" Lazarus explained as Rogue took in his words.

_

* * *

_

Principal's Office, Bayville High School:

The room was well lit for once, the curtain thrown back, letting the sunset light move in, dying the room red. Which just so happened to be Pietro's least favorite color. It brought back memories. He was actually grateful when his latest handler started to talk; he hated to wait, as long as he was doing something his mind didn't wander.

"I know you would rather not be here Pietro; you are not the first to be conscripted to the cause. You shall find, though, that this could be a grand opportunity," Mystique told the fidgety Quicksilver. She was in her Principal form, which annoyed the boy; it was like she was wearing a mask while talking to him. Not for the first time he wondered why the shape-shifter bothered with all of this. Why not just make herself the most gorgeous babe in the world make a fortune being a model and a bad actor?

"A collar is a collar, and I'm not about to take this lying down," Pietro murmured. He glared at the police monitor bracelet around his right ankle, wishing it were the real deal.

He had woken up in what he learned was the Brotherhood House, and worse, accompanied by John Lazarus.

_"What are you so happy about, Crispy?" Pietro taunted; the man's expression was blank. Lazarus pressed the button on his watch and Pietro yelped as a shock coursed through his leg. It lasted only a moment and he looked down at the ankle collar in confusion._

_"No need to worry young man, I took the liberty of disposing of the authorities' little monitoring device. But since we need to keep up appearances I replaced it with a gadget of my own._

_"It may or may not track you, but it definitely can shock you. Think of it as a training motivator," Lazarus explained, chuckling seeming to hide behind his words._

_"What the hell Blight! ? You know who my father is!" Pietro yelled, yanking at the ankle collar._

_"Of course, he told me quite clearly, 'no favoritism.' Your esteemed father is not getting any younger, so it is time you became the man to carry his legacy forward into the cause. Besides, you owe him for the get out of jail free card," Lazarus commented._

_"Anyway, you don't have a choice, the contract is already signed so to speak. And while you think you're hot stuff I have trained errant minded speedsters before. That collar has a speedometer, go too fast and you get shocked, unless I authorize a need for speed. Oh, and attempt to tamper with it and it will explode," Lazarus continued. Pietro ceased his prying to regard the collar in horror._

_"Make no mistake, I would sooner not have you, your sister was the one with promise. But I know – and you will learn – that the greatest duty is to others, not our own desires. Holiday's over, school is in session," Lazarus had finally grinned at the bound speedster._

The humiliation rankled, being under his father's lapdog's control rated as cruel and unusual punishment. The ugly geezer was officially number two on Quicksilver's list, right after Daniels.

"It is unfortunate to have that man's finger on the button, but he is a talented teacher for all his many faults. The great danger is loosing yourself to him, and you are far too strong in yourself for that. Unlike those two fools," Mystique said circling around him.

"Cut the crap, you and Crispy are fighting for my old man's favor. He's already got Toad and Blob in his pocket, Rogue is slipping into it, and Avalanche is loyal to no one. You want me on your side to avoid being a complete failure," Pietro grinned. He tried to accelerate when an iron grip closed on his shoulder, only to be shocked by the bracelet before he was tossed across the floor.

"Your spirit is admirable, but acting the fool will not get you your freedom. Understand this, there is a key difference between Blight and I. So long as I have your loyalty and obedience, you can do as you will. I do not require morality, honor or whatever Lazarus calls his indoctrination, I require only you serve me when I need it.

"You're too powerful to slip through the cracks and too weak to assert yourself against those that control you. I sympathize with you Pietro; I was once in the same position you are in now. You can learn as I did, give the appearance but not the spirit of surrender. Pride is personal, keep it strong but hidden, your enemies are never more vulnerable than when they think you are weak.

"Take what Blight offers – knowledge, skill, and discipline – but give nothing in return but illusions. Win Alvars over, weaken Blight's hold on the others, and with what you take and your allies, you will start to gain the true power that allows freedom.

"You are your father's son, and that means something to those of the Hidden Society. Even if you hate your heritage it is an advantage you would be foolish to squander. With my help you can be something more than a piece in someone's set. Perhaps even heir to your father's power," Mystique told him. At some point she had shifted into her mutant form, removing her glasses to regard him with those creepy eyes of hers. The scene reminded him of the cliché devil temptation deal.

"But first you must be free of Blight. To do that you need to become the man your father wants you to be. Magneto is old, powerful, and a genius, but he is a man and like all men he longs for his bloodline to validate his own worth. His displeasure has made you a slave, his favor will make you a prince, and more than you could ever achieve acting on your own."

"You're offering a lot, what's the catch?" Pietro snorted crossing his legs.

"Debt; my aid in exchange for an alliance. Friendship may be useless but one can achieve far more with allies than alone," Mystique finished. Pietro sighed; he hated being tied to someone, but any port in a storm he supposed. He gave Mystique a half-hearted salute and she smiled in spite of herself.

"Wise choice, our first order of business is gaining leverage on Rogue, we must move her away from Blight," Mystique told him. Pietro grinned with malicious sincerity; he was always for taking a dump on someone else's parade.

_

* * *

_

Xavier Institute:

Scott scanned the warehouse and saw a figure in a trench coat collapsed on the floor.

"I see him, visual confirmation of objective," Scott spoke into the communicator. Casting a wary eye to his surroundings he advanced with caution, one hand set to unleash a blast. This could be a trap, and this would be the ideal time to spring it. Reaching the objective he saw his team in place, negating much of the risk.

"It's alright, we have you now," Scott stated with relief as he began to turn her over, only for the target to roll to her back and sit up. Rogue's ghostly face split in a malign grin as she grabbed his face.

"No, I have you!" she sneered as her green eyes shifted to red.

"Stop the simulation!" Scott yelled with shock as Rogue's eyes burned crimson. The warehouse dissolved around him and Rogue's eyes dimmed before she collapsed inert, another sim drone. Standing up straight, he looked at the automaton, clearly disturbed at how lifelike it was. More accurately, how for the first time he faced a drone that elicited such a reaction from him.

"Scott! You know you are only to stop a simulation in the case of an emergency," the Professor exclaimed evenly as the doors opened, letting him and the instructors into the Danger Room. Which was now reverting to normal as the alterations for the simulation retracted, leaving only the Logan and Storm sim drones lying as proof of the action.

"Why is Rogue here? She wasn't part of the briefing," Scott demanded as his mentor drew near. The other X-Men drew close as well, anxious to find out what was going on.

The Professor frowned at the words from one of his two prize students. He glanced at the offending drone as if expecting it to offer some answers before turning his attention to Cyclops.

"The element of surprise Scott. No intelligence is guaranteed; you must be prepared for unexpected developments in the field. That is something you should be well aware of; I'll overlook this lapse though.

"Ororo, prepare the beta simulation. X-Men…" Xavier ordered before turning his attention away.

"That isn't what I meant Professor," Scott interrupted. Xavier turned back to Scott, looking intrigued.

"Speak your mind Scott," the Professor told him.

"You're using Rogue as an enemy; she's never fought us when she's in her right mind," Scott declared.

"And that one time she fought you endangered several of you, including Storm. We can only guess how effective she could be when in a mentally stable state; the data shows her intelligence to be higher than the other Brotherhood members. This simulation shows that you were unprepared for her ambush, so training is clearly called for," Xavier answered consoling.

"But that's just it. Rogue was tricked into the Brotherhood; we should be trying to win her over, not kick her ass. This says we see her as an enemy to beat like the others," Scott persisted. Xavier was clearly frowning now and the younger X-Men were getting uneasy while Storm looked a bit concerned. Wolverine was the sole unflappable one, observing the exchange with his usual demeanor.

"Scott, you are not thinking clearly. I would very much like to have Rogue as an X-Man someday, but here and now she is a member of the Brotherhood and therefore an enemy we need to be prepared to face. Return to the prep room all of you, we will complete this exercise – Scott, where are you going! ?" Xavier shouted as Cyclops walked past him and out of the Danger Room.

"Scott?" Jean called after him. She stopped in her near pursuit as a firm hand fell on her shoulder. Logan released her as he walked past.

"Might be best if I talked with him Red," Logan stated before walking after Cyclops.

"I think you might have gone too far this time Charles," Storm said to a surprised Xavier.

"Indeed, logic is a tool I cannot do without, but empathy is truly something I must struggle to maintain," Xavier admitted regretfully. Turning to the remaining X-Men he dismissed them; nothing productive would follow on the heels of this fiasco. Fortunately he could trust Logan to handle this unorthodox problem, as only an unorthodox man could.

* * *

"So, mind telling me what that was about?" Logan asked as he joined Scott in the elevator. Scott sighed but didn't answer as the doors closed.

"You really took them by surprise, even Charles, a boy scout like you storming out like that. I knew something was coming but that I didn't see," Logan continued sounding a little amused. He was not the chatting type, but necessity could bring words out of him, and out of Cyclops apparently.

"I joined the X-Men for two reasons, to figure out how to control these powers and to use them to help others. You know about me, my parents' last request was for me to look out for Alex, I failed them and him. I thought with training and everything I've been through here, I'd be able to make a difference for the next person who needed me to step up," Scott admitted. Logan glanced at him; Cyclops didn't look angry now, just down.

"Rogue ain't your brother, and you were lucky to make it out of that crash alive yourself. No one blames you for how things turned out but you," Logan answered brusquely.

"That's not the point! The Professor's helped me with the survivor's guilt; I'm not trying to make up for what happened. I mean, suppose we were a few weeks late finding Kitty and Avalanche had been drawing her into his way of thinking? Would we have just given up on her, never knowing what she could be as an X-Man? Rogue needs our help; we failed to keep her from falling in with the bad guys. Even if she can't be an X-Man she deserves the truth, and the benefit of the doubt till she can really choose a side," Scott retorted as they stepped into the mansion proper.

"Heh, so you don't want a precedent for giving up on people? Can't say whether that's noble or just stupid. Never giving up makes a good story, but with reality sometimes it really is best to cut and run to fight another day. Just remember this isn't only about what you want. You let that nobility put the team in danger and I'll take you down myself. You're a leader here and they are really starting to look up to you, you waver and the others start to do the same.

"I can't tell you what to do, but you'd better work it out before it becomes something you can't take back.

"That being said I'll be ticked off if I find all this nobility crap is just you covering a crush on the Goth girl," Logan concluded, walking past the young man. His back was to Scott now so the younger man could only sputter, not able to see if Logan was serious or not.

Scott watched him go as he calmed down – this put things into perspective but gave no real answers either. Cyclops couldn't help but worry this whole thing was going to get more complicated as time went on.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High School:

The office was cold and dark as usual, Lazarus noted as he crossed the threshold. Atmosphere was one thing but Mystique could be so crude in trying to assert control of a situation, lighting and temperature to put guests ill at ease… year one material. He noted she had restocked her office furniture; while he had needed to slap Toad on the wrist for the insubordination, he had been able to reward him off the books with a game toy the lad had apparently been wanting.

Blight closed the door behind him, which activated a number of anti eavesdropping devices to ensure no one, much less the secretary, overheard what was said. The lass was having much less difficulty not staring at him lately; he must have been coming around more than he realized, he decided.

"Thank you for coming Blight," Mystique greeted him from behind her desk. She was in her principal mode; he decided it suited her more than the rich vibrant colors of her true form. He took a seat as indicated and wondered if this meeting would be the least bit productive.

"You said it was urgent business," Lazarus answered casually.

"It's the business we're in, we have found a new prospect," Mystique stated. She noted the slight shift in posture; he was quite interested now. The shape-shifter handed him a folder that had been resting on her desktop. Opening it, he skimmed the documents and removed a photo clipped to one so as to better examine it. The photo showed a bespectacled teenage boy with light brown hair – he seemed to be modeling his appearance after John Lennon, Lazarus noted with amusement.

"Zane Coleman, lifelong resident of Buffalo, New York. His powers appear to be similar to Xavier's loyalist Banshee, though for the moment at least the ability has rendered him mute," Mystique told him.

"Hmm, with a side effect like that the powers may develop differently; this warrants investigation. I assume you want me to approach the young rock star personally?" Lazarus asked, putting the folder back together.

"You claim to be good at this manner of chore. I also want a student to accompany you," she affirmed.

"That is fine, excuse Tolansky and-" Lazarus began while getting up.

"No, I think you should take Quicksilver," Mystique interrupted casually. Lazarus paused before sitting back down again frowning.

"You need to mend fences with your new student and he needs this kind of experience if he is to follow in his father's footsteps someday," Mystique answered the unasked question.

"He is not the heir unless Lord Magneto names him as such, until then he is just another cadet," Blight stated.

"Then treat him like any other, and follow your orders. I want you two on the road straight from here. He should be in the parking lot," Mystique grinned as she handed him a document.

Rogue's fist sank into the punching bag as she tried to throw her weight into the blow without loosing her balance. Make each blow count; your first strike as if it were the last blow you could land, that's what Blight had said to her. She glared at the wobbling piece of equipment; as she brushed some sweat from her forehead, some of her cream came away with it. This made her scowl even more – it was supposed to be resistant to perspiration, bad enough she had to use it at all.

No, bad enough this would be a warm up for most people in shape and for her she was already taking a breather. She stalked over to the window of the gym and laid her head against the cool glass.

Life could be such a pain; she had been frustrated with her body's limitations the moment she realized how weak it was. It had taken a while for her to realize, what with a blind mother and a pretty sheltered life. She used to think her mother was so protective because of her condition and the whole single mother thing, now she knew better. Not for the first time she reexamined the old idea of her biological parents, something she had been content to let lay lie before she came to Bayville.

The Hidden Society, a secret society of mutants that spanned the globe recruiting mutants to its ranks and working to keep their existence a secret. The big "but" there being that when the secret came out the Hidden Society was convinced it would be some kind of race war/witch hunt. Considering what she had seen of people and read in history she was inclined to agree. But what she kept coming back to was that she hadn't been found, Irene was a member of this society tasked with raising her until she could be passed off to people like Mystique or Blight. It hurt, that her mother might not have bothered with her if she hadn't been ordered too.

Before, she had dismissed her bio parents as either dead or had given her up like a bad habit. But who knew what was possible in this world that seemed to get stranger each day? Were her bio parents in the Hidden Society, and killed in some kind of cliché spy action? Or maybe her parents had never been together and just did a business relationship like breeding a dog? And of course a persistent dark voice reminded her of the X-Men; what if it was like a comic book and she was kidnapped from mutants who opposed the Society?

Lazarus said her mother's identity was classified and he didn't know who her father was. His only advice before dropping the matter was that parents are the ones who raise you. There was no way to know if he was being straight with her, or if he was only saying something she wanted to believe to distract her.

Disliking the train of thought Rogue lifted her gaze and actually looked out the window. She could see Scott Summers in the parking lot, he and the other preppy students getting ready for a field trip. Spelunking if she remembered right. She wondered if there were this many secrets and doubts on the other side?

"You know he's never going to be your friend," a cold and elegant voice interrupted her thoughts. Rogue jolted upright, whirling to see Mystique standing in the gym in her human form.

"Principal Danvers," Rogue greeted her with a clumsy stand-to attention.

"The allure of the forbidden; we all have felt it at one time or another, the desire to reach out to an enemy we feel something towards," Mystique continued walking up to Rogue.

"You mean Scott? It's not like that," Rogue defended herself, though her body language was not exactly brimming with confidence.

"Believe it or not I too was once young, and my powers let me make mistakes others are not even capable of. As mutants this schism can be quite painful, divided not only from the rest of humanity from birth but from other mutants by belief. Before they were driven apart by ideology Magneto and Xavier were more than the co-rulers of the Hidden Society, their friendship was the seed from which the Hidden Society itself sprang.

"However the gap widens more every day, and to attempt to bridge it is to fall into the abyss Rogue. Xavier would love for us to lose you, beneath his veneer of humanitarian concerns beats a heart of cold logic and pragmatism that would condemn millions for a greater good without shedding a tear," Mystique explained. Rogue glanced back towards the window; she hadn't forgotten how she had been hunted, but it stood in such contrast to what she had seen in Bayville. Yes, they were soldiers and she could see them going far, but that casual cruelty and bloodthirstiness…

"It's time you learned your lesson Rogue. I trust you brought your coat?" Mystique asked. Rogue blinked a question at the older mutant, who answered with a sealed smile.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High School Parking Lot:

Scott looked over the assemblage of students around the bus with a pleased expression. Despite the cold snap things were falling together well, the weather just had to hold for one more day.

"You look as if this is your doing," Jean teased. It was a habit he picked up from training, talking charge and responsibility even when he didn't have too. She considered it one of his more endearing traits.

"Well, we did help some," Scott coughed, defending his slip. The geology teacher made his little pre-trip speech and announced his ban on game toys; predictably, the second part was what got peoples' attention.

"SHIT!" an angry shout of profanity cut through the scene. Everyone including the teacher turned to see who had said that. Across the parking lot Pietro Maximoff, his white hair making identifying him easy, was shaking his leg while bracing against a black sedan. He was accompanied by Lazarus, who smacked him on the head before getting in the car. Pietro seemed to realize he was being watched and shot the class a "what are you looking at" glare before getting in the car. The car pulled out and was on its way.

The other students went back to returning their game toys to their lockers while an aide called the teacher over. The incident, while noteworthy to them, was not really unusual. The Brotherhood was for reintegrating borderline juvenile delinquents and the burn victim was their handler. Only Scott and Jean knew enough of the truth to dwell on the matter.

"What do you think they're up to?" Scott asked in a low voice.

"Maybe training, maybe nothing, but that doesn't matter right now. We've been looking forward to this for weeks let's just be high schoolers – forget mutants and the Brotherhood for one day," Jean urged him. When he didn't lose the serious expression, looking after the black car, Jean wrapped her arm around his, finally getting his attention.

"Bad news Jean," the bespectacled and bearded teacher interrupted the moment as he briskly walked up. With his winter gear and air he looked every bit the field scientist ready for an expedition of some sort.

"What's wrong?" Jean asked confused.

"The school board won't clear your trip pass. Something about too many unexcused absences," Mr. Carson told her.

"But those absences were cleared!" Jean protested.

"Let us call Professor Xavier and we can get this straightened out," Scott insisted.

"I'm sorry Jean, but we're pushing things as it is with the weather. We need to go now and the principal has taken the liberty of giving another student your spot. I am sorry," the bearded man apologized before heading toward the bus. Watching him go, they saw Rogue climbing unto the bus wearing a black coat. The Brotherhood girl seemed to feel their attention because she turned and gave a cold grin to them before vanishing onto the bus.

"Alright, maybe they are up to something," Jean admitted.

_

* * *

_

Bayville High School:

Something wasn't right, Toad noted. It wasn't the usual stuff like him needing a bite, some more zs, or even the horrid fact he still had no girlfriend. No, this was an itching in his scalp that he had concluded along with Blight was his intuition. Since Blight had him showering more often he was doubly certain it was intuition and not lice. Anyway, he was told to isolate the divergent variable if this happened. In what Lazarus called layman's terms he had further told his student to find what was different from usual.

It hit Toad as he scanned the homeroom; as usual more of a brief study hall where people tried to tell you stuff that didn't merit announcements. The room was totally Goth-less – Rogue wasn't here.

Now why was that? They all got here at the same time in Lance's ride; even the boss had said he was coming in today, though he had finally rented a car of his own rather than habitually imposing on Lance. So here was his problem, one MIA grumpy Goth chick.

"Why is it the only girls in my life are psychos?" Toad wondered to himself as the bell rang. He made a beeline for Lance's locker in the hall, weaving through the milling student body with greater ease than in the past. You learn to dodge some kind of super SAS vet with a broom handle, you find avoiding normal teens cake thereafter.

It was double prize day for the Toad apparently; Lance and Fred were talking as Lance opened his locker exchanging one of his textbooks for another. With any luck Lance was still in a good mood – he had been less troublesome since his arm was cleared for active duty.

"Yo, you guys seen Rogue?" Toad asked them, walking up with his hands in his pockets.

"Nah, maybe she's with Pietro. Haven't seen him since we got in; he said something about working," Lance shrugged.

"The boss called me, said he and Pietro were heading out of town and we shouldn't do anything stupid when he's not around," Blob supplied.

"And he told you to tell us that, and you forgot?" Lance asked, rolling his eyes as Blob looked embarrassed.

"Well I'm glad to see you all are here," Jean Grey stated, walking up to them. The Brotherhood boys turned to stare at her with amusement, interest or anger respectively. The X-girl for her part was unfazed; Kitty, standing back and away from the confrontation, watched with a nervous look.

"Guess there's a first for everything. But since your majesty's blessing us filthy peasants with words, Toad thinks you made off with our Goth again. Which naturally worries him since he can't really do any better than her," Lance sneered. Blob laughed at the jab while Toad protested and Jean narrowed her eyes. Lance brushed past her, purposefully coming a bit too close, saying hello to Kitty as Jean looked back at Toad and Blob.

"Well I guess assuming you three know anything was giving you too much credit," Jean admitted with an underlying hint of sarcasm.

"Buzz off bitch, even if I knew something I'd never tell you," Fred grinned, crossing his arms and looking down at Jean. Jean felt her temper rising… no that was her hair. Mentally venting her emotions, she whirled and stalked down the hall. Fred was pleased at his perceived victory while Toad was confused.

"Later Kitty," Lance called after the brunette X-Man with a raised hand. He rejoined his comrades looking pleased with himself.

"Here's your answer slime boy. Seem little Miss Perfect's attendance record came back to bite her, she got held back from going to the mountains and looking at rocks with the other geeks and preps. Guess the boss got Rogue in her spot and Red's worried Summers is a target or something," Lance reported offhandedly.

"Wait, Mr. Lazarus told us to lay low," Blob pointed out.

"Since when does crispy tell us everything?" Lance waved it off as the warning bell rang. While Avalanche walked, off his two comrades remained by his locker, not sharing his lack of concern.

"I don't like this," Toad admitted.

"Me neither, you got your secure cell?" Blob asked.

"Always," Toad grinned, patting his backpack.

"Better call him, just to be sure," Blob advised. Toad nodded and made a beeline for the nearest men's room to make the call in private.

* * *

_Xavier Institute:_

It was a beautiful day, warm despite the taste of autumn on the wind. Charles Xavier paused at his study window, looking out on the day across the manicured lawns of the Institute that bore his family name. All was as it should be within the walls, but the source of his unease as ever was beyond them.

Erik, his greatest failure, yet again was casting a shadow across the world. Logic was Xavier's sword and reason his shield, but he could not deny intuition save at great peril. Something was coming, like the chill of autumn it had yet to arrive but it was drawing closer with an inescapable pace.

Jean had told him of the trip; it could be nothing. Mystique was not above pettiness, simply disrupting the life of his students because she could. But right on the heels of the incident with Scott it left him with a sense of foreboding. Scott was not a loose cannon; he had built the boy up from nothing, turning that survivor's guilt and hero complex into devotion to the cause of reason. More so than even his protégée, Cyclops' loyalty was the foundation on which he planned to build his X-Men into a world changing force. If the foundation was flawed it was usually the crafter to be blamed – had he erred at some juncture or was this merely a stage of development he had not foreseen in his planning?

Both possibilities were discomforting.

The ringing of his phone did not jolt him from introspection; with practiced ease he emerged from himself like a swimmer rising gracefully from the water. Silently passing through the study he plucked the phone from its cradle and noted the caller id was unknown. Strange, this was a secure line – perhaps it was a new outlet his associates were testing?

"Charles," the caller spoke his name and Xavier nearly dropped the phone.

"Erik?" Xavier nearly whispered Magneto's true name.

"It has been quite awhile. My lieutenants report on how strong your charges grow. While our division is infuriating I am pleased in spite of myself at your prosperity and genius," Magneto spoke over the line.

"What do you want Magneto, reminiscing like this is not in your nature," Xavier demanded. And it was true – the past was something of inspiration or dread for his old friend, and either way not visited lightly.

"I'm sure your prize student has told you of the change in plans that have placed Rogue and Cyclops beyond both our reaches. John is being held by a sheriff; it would seem once his subordinates alerted him something was amiss Pietro caused something of a scene. Do not get your hopes up; Miss Beseler will secure his release imminently. But not soon enough to intervene," Magneto told him.

"Intervene in what? Are you unable to control your enforcers?" Xavier asked, concealing the grin that wanted to grace his face.

"Mystique is missing; she was responsible for Pietro's actions and placing our two students so. Her failure to answer my summons means she has deployed herself, likely amidst the ill-fated outing. It would seem I underestimated her growth; she is still ruled by a need for violence, deception, and swift validation. Rogue is a prize she sees herself losing and now I fear she will take drastic action to turn the tide," Magneto stated, the final phrase hanging in the air with deadly possibility.

"Why tell me?" Xavier asked. He should have closed the window, he realized; the wind was far colder than he had expected.

"Pragmatism, you are the only one in a position to affect the outcome of Mystique's… endeavor. It is too soon for the next generation to come to blows in earnest, the time has not yet come," Magneto told him. Xavier was finding this strange – the voice was too cold, too collected, empty even. Even though cold, Magneto burned with the passion of his misguided crusade; the variables had shifted. Once more Charles Xavier felt the chessboard tilt as the pieces moved beyond the will of a hand.

"What are you going to do Erik? Why throw down the gauntlet after all these years?" the Professor demanded with a little of his own passion.

"Soon, old friend. Soon you will see and perhaps even understand," Magneto promised before he hung up. Xavier lowered the phone and looked down at the device as if willing it to produce answers to the questions that scurried about in his head in a vain search solution. He decided to let the questions wait for the time being; returning the phone to its cradle, he pressed a button that would summon his subordinates to him. Sometimes, in the face of the unknown, action was the only means to regain control.

_

* * *

_

The Caves:

Scott gave a weary smile as Mr. Carson began his lecture for the field trip; you have to give credit to a guy who can roll with the punches like that. None of them had seen fit to mention the racing incident to him, not that it would matter much. Even if he was angry at the recklessness, that was all he would see it as. If he and Dave had gone over the cliff it would have been tragic, but seen as nothing more than teenagers being stupid.

Here he was alone and cut off from his team with Rogue and a lot of civilians that by their presence limited his options. Rogue wasn't the enemy, but she sure was acting like it today.

"Scott, we need to talk," Rogue demanded as she put a gloved hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her; those green eyes looked more tired than aggressive, so Scott nodded his assent. He followed Rogue away from the group. It was risky, but he knew it would be when he got on the bus. He stopped in his tracks as they entered a half illuminated cavern with a waterfall cascading into a grotto.

"Wow," Scott marveled at the sight. Why hadn't Mr. Carson covered this?

"What's your deal Summers?" Rogue asked, walking closer to the edge.

"Deal?" Scott answered. Not the most elegant response he admitted, but he never considered himself more than fairly smooth.

"One day you act like you're out to get me, the next like you're trying to reach out or something. I can stand being enemies with you, but I don't like all these secrets and hidden agendas I keep getting caught up in. So please give me a straight answer," Rogue asked, her back to him. Scott sighed; gathering himself for what he knew was going to be a vital encounter.

"Rogue I've never wanted to be your enemy, I'd much rather be your friend," Scott told her.

"So that's why you tried to abduct me twice, and why you fought a robot me in that danger room of yours?" Rogue accused, turning to face him with a hard expression.

"How do you know about that?" Scott asked confused. Rogue frowned and he realized he had admitted to her accusation, lie and truth in one.

"Wait, I didn't fight it! I refused, because you're not like the others," Scott insisted. Rogue's expression changed into something he had trouble reading.

"Really? What makes me so special?" Rogue asked bitter tone on the last word.

"Your doubtful heart, so desperate to touch and yet so determined to repel. It makes you vulnerable to manipulation," Dave stated as he walked into the cavern.

"Dave?" Scott asked thoroughly confused by the blonde boy's words.

"Not quite," Mystique declared as she shifted into Principal Danvers; the effect was still intimidating despite the undersized men's winter ware she was wearing.

"Principal Danvers?" Scott nearly stuttered in confusion. The principal was a mutant.

"Mystique, why are you here?" Rogue asked, stepping forward. Scott whipped his head to Rogue at the revelation that had just been dropped on him. He watched as the familiar stern face of his principal morphed into the blue-skinned red-haired assassin the X-Men dreaded. She smirked at him with a predatory leer, casting off the coat revealing some kind of black top she had apparently been wearing under it the whole time to grow into.

"Yes, Mr. Summers, I have been that close to you and your little friends from the start. Your surprise is a little unexpected, though. I can understand Xavier withholding my identity from the foot soldiers, but his field commander? It would seem he doesn't trust you as much as we thought," Mystique taunted the X-Man. She turned her attention to Rogue as Scott shifted himself getting ready for a fight; the girl was just confused at this point.

"You can be so frustrating Rogue, the stunt on the route here was simple but inspired. But asking Summers into a place where he could not only easily kill you, but dispose of your remains handily? It's a good thing I tagged along to mind you, now your error becomes an opportunity," Mystique admonished Rogue before tuning her attention back to Scott. The X-Man was in a dilemma; he was no push over, but he didn't have any chance against Mystique without his eyes, and he couldn't control them well enough to fight here. A blast with too much power or just in the wrong place could cause a cave in. He could tell she knew that as she advanced on him, and she also knew he wouldn't use his power for that reason.

"Are you really going to die so pathetically? Perhaps Xavier wanted this to clear chafe from his ranks. What use is a soldier that won't even fight for his life?" Mystique taunted as she came up to Scott. She effortlessly caught his right hook in her palm, and with a whirl of movement was behind him with both his arms caught in her grip. He could see Rogue looking shocked at the deadly turn of events; it was just like then, the night her powers awoke. Even if he died here, he could still make a difference, he realized.

"Plenty, being an X-Man means putting others before yourself. I'd rather die than risk everyone's life just to try and save my own," Scott declared to both women. Mystique gave a light sound of derision to the statement then twisted on the spot, pushing/tossing Cyclops in the same motion, sending him over the edge into the grotto with a scream.

Rogue gasped and ran to the edge as Mystique walked past her. Falling to her knees she peered over the ledge, heart threatening to burst out of her chest. It didn't slow down when she saw him on another ledge a few meters below; he could still be bone dead for all she knew. She turned back to Mystique, who had turned back into Dave and was putting his clothes back on. Oh God, what the Hell happened to Dave, she wondered? Mystique had tried to kill Scott for nothing, it wasn't self-defense, and he hadn't even really tried to fight back.

She took a deep breath, her heart slowing and her focus narrowing even as her mind told her this was a terrible idea. Coat, long pants, and boots, only vulnerabilities being the hands, neck and head. Hands were the only shot she would have and it was a long shot at that. She must have looked to be shell shocked, because Mystique was not the least bit warned by her blank expression as she approached the woman pretending to be a teenage boy.

"He was too curious and had more testosterone than sense. He slipped, he fell, very sad, and for now I do the talking. Come on, let's break the bad news," Mystique stated in the boy's voice. She had her back turned and believed the matter was settled; after this there would be no betrayal through fear if nothing else. This is why Rogue was able to grab Mystique's right hand in her own bare hands.

"_One shot, one kill,_" she quoted Lazarus in her head. The next moment the feedback from absorption drowned out thought.

They both shouted out. Mystique as she felt something torn from her mind while warmth drained from her body through her hand. Rogue shouted out of fear, knowing she was closer to death now than ever before, and in recognition of another's being invading her own. She recognized the thoughts and memories as foreign, and somehow recognizing that was able to hold them back at arm's length even though they still struggled to overwhelm her.

Mystique's foot sank into Rogue's stomach as she twisted into a kick that was crude by her standards but invented and powered by desperation. The contact was broken as Rogue released her hand, falling to her rear on the stone while Mystique collapsed. As her skin turned blue Rogue saw memories flash before her like movie.

A young Irene, the Society leader Magneto, but without his helmet. Mystique and him gave a baby to Irene; she asked about its parents, Magneto admitted he wasn't the father. Nothing needed to be said about the father. Mystique scoffed at the secrecy, but she didn't know either and that truth shamed her.

A limo, Irene as Rogue knew her. She was scared, Irene was scared of her (Mystique, not Rogue); afraid as always that things would go too far, that's why she couldn't make it as a real player in the Society, what a waste.

It rankled the question, "You won't really hurt her, will you? She's your daughter Raven," Irene nearly pleaded. Mystique's words had been meant to be reassuring, but there was no truth behind them, she had already decided leaving a few scars would only make the night's deception all the more effective.

"You're manipulative, deceptive, and too vain to admit your talent for those is not really at the level of a true skill. I'm not building off your rotted foundations; as far as I'm concerned her loyalty needs to be built from the ground up. You can't build allegiance on lies, harlot," Lazarus admonished her with his eternally arrogant attitude. Even after all that had happened he acted as if he was so far above her as to be untouchable.

With a gasp Rogue broke free of the memories and her first act was to stare at Mystique's unconscious form. Her mother, her real mother, and her real hunter tormenter… this was nuts. Holding up her hand she saw her skin matched her birth mother's now; she wondered if she could see the resemblance if she had a mirror now.

"Scott!" She cried as she recalled her motivation. It was like flying, Mystique's power was not just shape shifting, her forms were at the peak of their potential! He cried out as she leapt down to him, he was alive!

"You're alive!" she exclaimed as she leaned over him. She pulled him into a sitting position, checking him over and finding a bleeding bump on the back of his head.

"And you're blue, why?" Scott asked blearily. Rogue laughed bitterly at the ridiculousness of his question.

"Look out!" Scott shouted, his voice still weak but sharpened by urgency as he looked over her shoulder. She looked back up and felt her heart skip a beat; she saw the outline of Mystique hefting a boulder over the ledge. Below was water flowing into the ground and likely death, and staying was certain death by boulder.

She dived with Scott, gambling on the hope that the water was flowing out rather than into the mountain. They sank with a splash and were immediately caught in the current as Rogue kicked them back to the surface. The water was ice cold; she couldn't imagine something so cold still being a liquid. She wanted to scream but dared not open her mouth, fearing what would rush in. The current tore at her in the darkness, tore at Scott trying to rip them apart. He wasn't swimming – he may already be drowning. But she remembered what he had said; it had nothing to do with X-Men or the Hidden Society, just that this one wasn't meant to be ended here. She held on as his weight dragged her under yet again.

Scott's glasses must have slipped off – the deadly light of a dying sun tore through the darkness, the water boiled before vaporizing and stone exploded outward. Rogue finally screamed as the current changed and the light faded.

As suddenly as it had come the ice river was gone, wind howled about her and cut her cheeks as they fell. Whatever they hit Scott took the worst of it under her, grunting painfully before becoming silent. Rogue's teeth began to chatter as adrenaline faded and the water soaked into her coat and her clothes began to freeze. She could hear the water still, and the wind meant they were outside. The blizzard made it hard to see, but their escape from being carried into the earth mattered little; Scott was banged up bad and they would both freeze. As she began to panic, even considering emulating Han Solo with Scott to survive, she heard the boy mutter something. She hastily crawled over to him and rolled him over onto his back, holding her ear to his mouth.

"X-Men, Professor's telepathy, looking for us," he whispered. Rogue grinned shamelessly as a port opened in the storm.

"Great, I'll take even them," Rogue stated.

"Can't find us, storm," Scott told her. Rogue's heart sank as she realized how hard it would be to find anything in this weather, if only they had a flare…

"Scott, open your eyes! Show them where we are," Rogue demanded. For a moment he was still and Rogue was afraid he may have died, then his eyes cracked open and a crimson column parted the skies. His power was horrifying; she realized he held back a lot of the time, but right now it was beautiful. Then it stopped, and she realized Cyclops had passed out.

"Wha? No, no, no, no! Wake up; this is no time to be human! What happened to that hero speech Summers? !" Rogue demanded, shaking him by the shoulders.

"He's weak, that's what you get for choosing the wrong side," Mystique called from the darkness. She stepped into Rogue's line of sight, naked but seemingly unperturbed by the cold. Rogue wondered if absorbing her was the only reason she wasn't like Scott right now.

"You're my mother," Rogue said the first thing that came to her mind. Mystique's expression remained cold as she advanced on the teenagers.

"Why did you give me up? I always hoped my parents had died," Rogue pressed. Mystique stopped at that and looked Rogue over appraisingly.

"I didn't intend for you to find out until later, to build off of what loyalty you already had. But despite Irene's efforts you have proven a waste of time. I gave you up because I never intended to keep you, your brothers at least were born of my consent and had some potential; a sickly girl like you wasn't even worth naming myself.

"But Irene is someone I value, and she is attached to you. So here is your last chance, roll him over the edge and I will save you from the cold. Or you can die with him, by my hand or nature's," Mystique told Rogue through the screaming wind.

Rogue looked where Mystique pointed and realized they were on some outcropping; Mystique's back was to the ledge somehow. Her mind was fried from the memories and reaction, so only now did she remember a very important fact – she could take more than one. It might kill him, but he would definitely die if Mystique had her way, good enough! She brushed his cheek with her fingertips as lightly as she could.

"BITCH, DON'T MESS WITH ME!" Rogue cried out. Her eyes caught fire and that inferno tore through the snow and darkness to strike Mystique, sending her plummeting. Rogue didn't hear her scream but something else filled the darkness, an angry thrumming, before a floodlight came over them. A new wind bore down on them as something large and dark drew level with their ledge. A door opened as a patch of light, and it was filled by the man who had haunted her nightmares in Mystique's place. He screamed at something she couldn't make out, claws extended in challenge. Then he was leaping onto the ledge, Jean following, floating in the air. Strong arms wrapped around her and she was flying. The silence of the wind was the last thing she heard before darkness overcame her.

"Girl wake up, you need to wake up!" a gruff voice called through the haze. She tried to drift back down into oblivion when a flare of pain thrust her through the surface into waking.

"Gah!" she cried as she cradled her cheek. Wolverine stood over her, hand still extended from the backhanded blow that had finished the job of reviving her. His presence was distressing, as were the surroundings that reminded her of a plane. She recalled the events of the field trip; the X-Men must have rescued them in their plane. She was strapped to a chair with seat belts and covered in a wrap of blankets in place of the clothes she realized were missing. Great, a bunch of men in tights saw her naked, or worse, Jean Gray did.

"Mystique?" Rogue warily inquired.

"She tried to get at you two again, but backed down rather than face us. But this storm would never be enough to finish her off. It seems you protected our boy scout. That mean you're with us now?" Wolverine asked bluntly.

"If I say no, will you toss me out?" Rogue hesitantly asked.

"Kid, we're not Mystique. Say no and we'll take you back to the mansion and kick you to the curb with a dry set of clothes. What happens after that is up to you," Logan admitted. Rogue closed her eyes and worked down into the blankets covering the lower half of her face.

"I'll have to think about it," came her muffled reply.

"Fine by me, but Charles will probably want something more solid when we land. Lazarus too for that matter," Logan admitted as he left the girl to her thoughts.

* * *

Despite what she had told Wolverine, Rogue didn't do too much thinking. While Mystique's memories hadn't overwhelmed her like Cody's had, it was still head twirling. And now that she didn't seem to be in immediate danger she was content to draw a mental blank and let the memories slip away until only her memory of the memories would remain. Man that was a concept that would give her a headache when she finally sat down to try and sort it out.

For that matter Blight had said she wouldn't be having this problem again. Blight… he'd known about what Mystique had done. He hadn't approved, but had he not liked it because of what it did to Rogue or because he thought it wouldn't work? She felt stupid to think it, but she wished Irene were here.

The door, which she assumed led to the main compartment the X-Men were occupying, slid open admitting Storm. The elegant African-American woman regarded her with detached ambivalence, making Rogue feel self conscious; she must look a fright, she realized.

"I thought you might want these back," the weather witch told Rogue, who realized Storm was holding Rogue's clothes, minus the coat.

"Oh, thanks," Rogue muttered. Reaching out from between the blankets her hands found the buckle of the straps and released them. Careful to keep herself covered she made her way toward the older mutant, who actually came to her. Rogue tucked her clothes under one arm, careful to not touch Storm, or seem to try and touch her.

Rogue lifted her eyes from the floor and saw Storm turning to leave.

"How's Scott?" Rogue asked hurriedly. Storm stopped and turned to look at Rogue with that same expression. She waited a moment before answering.

"He came out worse than you, but he will make a full recovery now. Jean is determined to stay by his side till he wakes up again despite our assurances. It's because of you; strange behavior for an enemy," Storm commented. With that she turned and left Rogue to change, and this time the lass could not help but think.

It wasn't long after she had changed back into her still damp but now warm attire that she felt the plane slow and then stopped with a kind of wobble. Smooth landing, but then this was some kind of super spy plane or something, she figured. The door slid open revealing Wolverine, though now he had his mask pulled back off his head. It was the first time she had seen him in person without the mask. He wasn't handsome – rough was the first word that came to mind. When he turned away and gave a silent command for her to follow she realized he reminded her a bit of Blight, somehow.

The midsection of the plane wasn't much different than where she had been, but bigger, and a chair had been folded out and she guessed had been holding Scott till recently. She followed Logan out the door and found herself at the top of a flight of stairs and in the middle of a chromed air hangar.

"How do you guys even build this stuff?" Rogue let slip without realizing it.

"With a great deal of capital and a certain element of risk," a refined and calm voice carried to her. Looking down at the base of the stairs she saw Storm and Wolverine standing next to a bald man in a wheelchair who was smiling up at her. Her first thought was that she was seeing a genuine gentleman, something she believed to be a myth, the second was: Charles Xavier.

This was the man Blight seemed to both fear and look down on with an obsession that was a cut above his myriad of other quirks. He was also the man Mystique had feared enough that she had hunted Rogue just to ensure she never met him.

Somehow she expected him to be taller.

"I'm glad we can finally meet face to face Miss Darkholme, I am Professor Charles Xavier. Though I imagine you have already heard a great deal about me," the Professor greeted with a small smile and backing up his chair as if beckoning her closer. Well it wasn't like she could fly the plane, so down it was.

"Thanks for the rescue," Rogue stated lamely as she made it to the floor.

"No thanks are necessary, we couldn't leave someone to die. Besides, according to Scott you put your life in danger to help him," Xavier told her.

"Mystique, I don't understand her," Rogue admitted.

"Yes, she and the others are so quick to violence. It's their scarred pasts; they can't let go of pain so they insist on opening wounds anew rather than healing. What's worse, they harm others in order to pull themselves up by dragging their victims down," Xavier sighed, sounding weary with the burdens of the world.

"So I guess I'll be going?" Rogue asked.

"Only if that is what you want, Miss Darkholme. No need to be surprised, the Institute may serve as the base of the X-Men but it was originally conceived as a place of refuge for mutants in need. Staying the night would bring no obligation, and you may benefit from a night's sleep to clear your head," he assured her. It was a persuasive argument, it's not like things wouldn't keep.

Then Kurt popped in.

"You're back! Good, Blight's at the front door, he thinks… oh, I guess he was right. Hi Rogue, your boss wants to see you. And he doesn't seem inclined to take no for an answer," Kurt told them nervously.

He had come onto the scene at the front door late. Evan and Kitty had answered the door and been met by the imposing and very irritated Blight. The man seemed out of sorts in his usually impeccable attire but he was laser focused, and Rogue seemed to be his agenda. Evan told him to back down and had left the older mutant less than impressed.

Spyke had drawn a large spike and held it out, warning Blight off. Blight had simply grabbed the spike in his own grip and they watched as first his glove and then the spike crumbled to dust in his grip. As the other end clattered to the ground, Evan had dropped the remainder as if worried the effect would spread. Blight had moved fast, stepping into Evan's guard. Kitty had screamed as he grabbed Evan near the neck with his bare hand.

Fortunately he didn't use his powers; whatever he did Evan just collapsed to the floor like a rag doll, unconscious but alive. When he turned his attention to Kitty the girl had squeaked and literally melted through the floor, leaving Nightcrawler alone with the man.

He was quite surprised at what happened next – Lazarus had tilted his head, looking at the spot Kitty had disappeared into, and then glanced over to the unconscious Spyke. Putting his still gloved hand over his face the burned man had taken a deep breath and walked back over the threshold to stand just outside.

He had asked Nightcrawler to tell Rogue he wanted to talk with her, and Xavier's permission to use the mansion grounds for the talk if Rogue wanted.

Having delivered the message Kurt looked Rogue over curiously. Why was she here and why was she blue? She reminded him of Mystique, but it really wasn't looking like her so much as looking like what Mystique was. He was going to hear the story behind this if it was the last thing he did!

"Rogue you don't have to meet with him if you do not wish too. He is powerful but this mansion is beyond him," Xavier assured her. She looked to the man that she had almost seen as a boogeyman of some sort. This wasn't what she had expected, but didn't Bli… Lazarus deserve a chance? She didn't know-

It was cold like a frozen river, spreading over her brain like a squid, probing, stroking. It was a solid shadow amidst her self, and it was foreign, she realized.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Rogue whirled on Xavier, bellowing at the top of her lungs. Xavier's face was wide eyed; those who knew him would be shocked at him displaying that much surprise. To Rogue, whose face was etched with outrage even as the presence left her head though, he didn't look the least bit perturbed.

"How dare you! No one does that to me! Elf! Take me to him, I have had so many bombshells whatever he has won't compare, may as well get it over with," Rogue growled as she stalked over to the shocked X-Man. As she grabbed Kurt by the shoulder he looked to the Professor for direction. Once more composed, the Professor gave him a nod and the two teenagers disappeared in a puff of smoke.

"What was that about?" Logan asked, sounding irritated by the whole business.

"A certain degree of curiosity has sent the situation out of hand. Further intervention will only make it worse, we must let the Chaplain play his hand and hope it is weaker than we expect," Professor Xavier admitted. He held a hand to his temples and closed his eyes.

"Jean, we will discuss this later in private," he promised his prize student. From her hiding place just outside the hangar entrance, Jean Gray couldn't repress a shudder at the familiar promise.

* * *

It was proving to be a memorable day, Lazarus thought yet again. Pietro would pay for his role in Mystique's plot. He was quite grateful to Beseler for straightening matters out; even though escape from such a poor cell would have been easy, he would not have his reputation tarnished with such allegation. Granted his reputation was in the sewer in several circles, but at least most of that were fact-based reasons to despise him.

Anyway, as he had told Pietro, plotting against him was all well and good – he would actually be quite impressed if Pietro was the one to kill him. But needlessly endangering Brethren like this? That went far beyond the pale; if Pietro tried something like this again Lazarus had decided to kill him, he would deal with the fallout when that time came.

Now here he was loitering the Xavier Institute's doorstep; the opulence of the so-called progressive bourgeoisie rankled. A school had no need of such grandeur, much less a home. It spoke volumes to Lazarus of the worldview Xavier sought to perpetuate.

Worst of all somewhere in it was one of his students who he had no doubt Xavier's sticky fingers were trying to get a grip on.

He could force his way in; he actually had, however briefly. But that had been a mistake spawned by anger clouding his judgment. Kitty Pryde was the sole and unimpressive obstacle; having returned from the floor to drag her comrade out of sight, she watched partially hidden behind a doorframe. Others might have seen her actions as cowardly but it was far more commendable than Daniels' stupid posturing. He could have killed Daniels easily, and Pryde too if her intangibility did not escape his breakdown field. Contrary to modern romanticism sometimes a hasty retreat is best, and most importantly, she had come back of her own accord. Which was far more difficult than letting pride glue you to the line like a fool in his experience.

The girl had potential, if it could only be tapped. Same for all the X-Men; Cerebro let mutants of power and personal strength be gathered together as never before. If only Lord Magneto would let him destroy them before this threat got out of hand, he sighed to himself.

A puff of smoke beneath the chandelier heralded Wagner's return, and Lazarus immediately realized he wasn't alone. The sight of blue skin sent his hand to his P3k, but as he noted the height and posture he relaxed. It would seem Rogue had taken his tactics to heart; the surge of warm pride was familiar and welcome as he knew battle of a sort was about to be joined.

"Rogue, I'm glad you're alive. I see you managed to get the drop on Mystique," Lazarus greeted her, crossing the threshold. Nightcrawler backed off; he could tell this was going to be something best done in private. Rogue for her part glanced to the side and saw in a mirror over a mini table that she was still blue. Not much liking that she focused on her own alabaster tone and the pigment faded to light blue and finally bone white.

"Impressive. I'm guessing you just shifted rather than running out of power?" Lazarus commented. She gave him a deadly serious look that told him banter was not being accepted at this time.

"I took more than her power. We need to talk," Rogue told him flatly.

"Well let us talk then," Lazarus stated. He stepped aside and gestured to the door with his thumb. Rogue nodded and stepped out into the twilight, Lazarus following.

* * *

"You knew it was Mystique the whole time," Rogue accused him softly as they walked down a stone path.

"Since before I arrived. Lord Magneto called me here because he felt her methods were going to come back to haunt the Society. So he called in an expert to take over the program and if necessary perform damage control," Lazarus admitted.

"Damage control; you mean this right now?" Rogue harrumphed.

"Correct, disillusionment and acts of betrayal happen. It's a consequence of having to work in the shadows that the darker aspects tend to cast themselves in our path.

"Mystique was a poor choice, I opposed her appointment on both personal and principal levels. She is a veteran operative, one of the best I'll admit, and as such demanded advancement. Lord Magneto created the Brotherhood to gauge her and Xavier's group simultaneously in a semi-controlled environment. However, after she recruited you he worried that the risk outweighed the benefits and-"

"Are you the bad guys? I mean Mystique was going to kill me and Scott was ready to die not to risk me getting hurt. So if you're going to be honest that's the question I want answered," Rogue demanded. Lazarus stopped and Rogue turned to stand in front of him, critically observing his ruined face.

"Life is not a comic book, Rogue," he finally answered.

"It is very rare one can objectively label sides good or evil. I would call Scott good, as a person, and likewise Mystique's violence and self-centered nature would earn her the title evil. But both sides have their dirty laundry and agendas.

"Mystique isn't the only neglectful parent. Xavier has a son in Scotland, Storm was once leader of a tribe before she left them for better things, Lord Magneto set Pietro and his sister aside, and I have disgracefully outlived my children.

"Yes, does it surprise you I haven't always been scarred and old? I married twice and had a child with each wife, and another son off a whore. Of my many failures in a century of living fatherhood is the one that haunts me most.

"I could blame my own father figures, absent, negligent, and abusive respectively, but the fact is I chose to emulate those men in my turn. My firstborn son I treated horribly, trying to shape him into a tool and heir to my ambition. He tried to pull a Zeus on me but was unable to topple this Titan before I arranged his own demise. The only consolation is that thanks to my efforts he was worse than me at my nadir, so his death may have been for the best.

"My second son, Daigoro, I didn't know about him till he was twelve, and he had come from a bad situation. I was a different man then; I had been burned and been reborn as a servant of God, and I saw in him some chance at redemption for my past failures. But I was a coward; I gave him favor but no true love, afraid that by being close to him I would somehow taint him. He was not right in the head, I should not have had him trained and should have heeded his peers' warnings, but I didn't want to see it. In the end my willful blindness saw the deaths of many people, and I had to kill Daigoro myself.

"It's ironic, when I ran with demons in the likeness of a demon I never shed any tears because I cared for nothing. But when my soul was revived I lost the ability to cry from my burn wounds," Lazarus recounted with melancholy.

"And the third kid?" Rogue asked, horrified but intrigued.

"Eileen, she died because she was my daughter, she was without sin. That tale, I'm not ready to tell again yet. Fred knows some of that story, he will give you what answers he can regardless of how you choose," Lazarus admitted. He actually looked old right now – how old was he really, Rogue wondered.

"Choose; you and Xavier both expect me to decide where to go now that the cat's out of the bag," Rogue sighed.

"Well now that you're on the radar you have too much potential to let you have a normal life. And there are worse groups than the X-Men or Hidden Society that will never even offer you a choice. If you do leave us, I recommend Xavier, he at least pretends to value his subordinates," Lazarus advised.

"I thought you hated him?" Rogue demanded; she disliked double standards.

"I do, he is a hypocrite who values the status quo and vague progressive ideals more than reality or the well being of his own kind. He comes from ivy towers and presumes to know what is best for the world with all the arrogance of bourgeoisie socialists admonishing the proletariat. Not to mention he made me experience Eileen's death repeatedly to torture information out of me," Lazarus hissed.

"Wow," Rogue commented, stepping back at the hatred she could practically feel rolling off of him.

"War is coming, Rogue. Xavier, like Chamberlain, thinks diplomacy can prevent it, but the tides of history will not be denied. I want to see that war not only won, like Lord Magneto, I want it won in such a way that it will mean neither genocide nor an imminent third round.

"Xavier wants to protect the world as it is now, I don't. I want to bring about a true and meaningful change Rogue; I believe the races can do better. I am a cynical optimist, the world is a terrible place under the veneer, but we can make it better. Utopia no, a better world yes; that's my goal in a nutshell, and I admit I will go far to make it happen.

"So I can't answer your question as you would liker simply because the situation is too convoluted for a straight answer to fit. Each side thinks they're right and can make an argument. Well, Hellfire won't have much of an argument, but with a name like that its clear they never cared about appealing to the masses.

"Well, anything else? No? Well I want you to think about it all. I will be waiting in the car, no need to say anything to my face. If you want to stay then all you have to do is stay, I wish you luck," Lazarus told her. Just like that he was receding into the gathering darkness, a shadow beneath the trees that Rogue could only watch in the charged atmosphere.

_42 Minutes Later:_

Lazarus sat in the black sedan, wondering if he had made a mistake. He had told her the truth, and what's more the truth on the most shameful events of his life. The world and his arrogance had made a cautionary tale of his life, and his children were distinguished even then. Perhaps he should have confessed he became a teacher not to make up for the family he destroyed, but to give some small amount back to the world for the countless lives he had ended or ruined? Or maybe told her Xavier used casual psi-influence to condition loyalty in those close to him?

Ah, he could chase himself in circles forever; that might be the hell he was destined for. The dice had been tossed and now he would have to live with the roll.

He truly was lost in thought; he didn't notice anyone draw near. He first realized he wasn't alone when the passenger door opened. Reflexively he unbuckled his seat belt and raised his free hand preparing to dust the intruder, only to see Rogue leaning down looking at him with tired amusement. Mystique's powers must have worn off; she wasn't all white anymore, her blue veins and dark arteries showed on her face again. She looked better without make up, but then that was one of the few opinions that had not changed from his Uncle's house to today.

"No talking, just take me back," Rogue told him shortly as she climbed in. The old man smiled and nodded at her words. Turning on the car he shifted into gear and the two were carried down the grand driveway and away from the Xavier Institute.

* * *

VIII.

So, quiet as despair, I turned from him,  
That hateful cripple, out of his highway  
Into the path he pointed. All the day  
Had been a dreary one at best, and dim  
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim  
Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

-Taken From "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came", by Robert Browning

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AN3:

_REVIEWS: First of all thank you to the four reviewers for the last chapter. While I will never hold a story hostage for reviews they are a major motivator for me, especially critical ones that can make me see something I missed or even give me a new idea. Also never be afraid to say you don't like something or think I made a mistake. I will never reply to a review in anger. Even if you flame me I will just delete it without dignifying with a reply. I would much sooner see that you care enough to voice a concern than receive silence for disapproval._

**Next Chapter:**

"Aftermaths": In which Scott Summers awakens to bad news, two teachers vigorously debate pedagogy and a corporal punishment is shown in bold new ways!


	11. Aftermath

_**Disclaimer**_**: **_I do not own X-Men Evolution. I doubt I could sell something half as good as what they managed to get on television; I have the advantage of zero corporate interference, because I make no money writing this. But John Lazarus is my creation; please only use with permission if you like him._

**Betaed by: **Zim'smostloyalservant and Red Leader Zala.

* * *

**Aftermath**

The house was lit up when Lazarus pulled up in the driveway. Not unusual in and of itself; after all, he had made it clear something was going on, and it was to be expected they would wait up to get some answers. He would oblige them as was decent, Rogue needed rest and he had already decided she would remain back from school in the morning unless she insisted otherwise.

Lazarus was glad he lad left Pietro in lock-up to stew; with Rogue's allegiance secured some of his worse traits were coming up. Wrath was not his greatest sin, but it was the one that most appealed to him in his old age.

Still, something felt wrong as he looked at the house. He was no telepath, but decades of intrigue, war, and other less savory activities had sharpened his intuition to the point some people mistook him for a short term precog. Naturally he didn't divest people of the notion – a phantom ace can be as valuable as a real one in the right situation.

That intuition told him something had changed in the house. It wasn't the feel of a threat, but he was not so vain as to rely on it solely. What he was certain of was that an unknown variable had popped up, and with this day it was to be expected that it was a threat.

He left the car running, opening the door quietly and not closing it. Rogue was asleep, best to leave her like that for the moment. Pulling his pistol from its holster he felt a bit less fatigued, the comfortable weight of the weapon in his hand. He was getting too old for this, he conceded. Fights were one thing, but those soul-searching moments and personal revelations given to others were murder.

Blight chose a window rather than the door; he could make his own entrance if he wanted, no need to take the expected route. The window was open, quite strange, and a red flag. He could hear voices, Alvars and…

He scowled, abandoning stealth to storm back to the front door and let himself in.

As Irene had guessed, the scarred man abandoned his ninja routine to come in through the front door. He knew it was her; Raven would not pick such an obvious disguise. But still, the blind precog knew with others as potential risks he would require confirmation. Despite not liking Blight personally, she could not fault him for actually being loyal to his subordinates. It was the only reason she would accept the outcome.

"How's Rogue?" Irene asked. She did not turn to face him; after all, in her case it was not practical. She noticed Avalanche shift and imagined he was grinning, typical. The punk boy was hopping to see a fight of some kind. Her Sight had never shown her him, but she could tell what he was. The polite large boy and the smelly one were preferable, works in progress but they could easily be decent men if not good men.

"You knew this would happen," Blight declared.

"Of course, it's my curse to know," Irene answered, sipping her coffee.

"The old Cassandra excuse doesn't work in this company," Blight pointed out.

"Perhaps, but why don't you ask your question so you can put the gun away?" Irene asked, finally facing the scarred man.

"How do I know you are who you appear to be?" Lazarus asked the question. Irene got up from her spot on the couch, placing her coffee cup on the table. Cane in hand, she walked up to him and whispered four words in his ear. Lazarus scowled as best as his features allowed.

"Well then, will you continue to support the harlot?" Lazarus demanded, looking quite miffed at what Irene had said to him.

"I'm a mother, you're a father," Irene stated by way of answer. It went over the heads of the boys, but Lazarus seemed to understand, nodding. He noted it was the first time Destiny did not object to his insults toward Mystique; he wondered if she was actually being truthful. His next question was cut short as he heard someone coming up the porch.

He didn't need to turn to know Rogue had just stopped in her tracks in the doorway. What held her surprised and undivided attention was certainly not his back.

The tension nearly sparked in the air as Rogue walked past Lazarus to stand before her adoptive mother. Pietro watched in the shadows of another room, his usual grin slipped in favor of a more somber expression. Despite his well-cultivated jadedness he found too much familiar in the scene to wave it off as he did most everything.

Toad tilted his head as he stayed crouched on a chair, uncertain what to expect with what little he knew. Lance drew himself up, seemingly gaining a measure of spirit from the charged atmosphere and eager to see what would happen. Fred shuffled off into the kitchen, remembering something.

"What else could happen before I get to bed? A fuckin' red-letter day this is," Rogue ground out. Irene said nothing, her daughter's angry face reflected in her glasses. Lazarus took a step back, giving some space.

"Uh, here, heard it was a blizzard or something," Fred explained as he returned with a cup of hot chocolate and offered it to Rogue. He had made it too early, it was more warm than hot now, Lazarus observed. Rogue turned her head away from Irene to see the cup and glared at Dukes, as if to condemn him for intruding on the intimate moment.

She had a point, but still Lazarus wasn't about to let her burn an olive branch. Stepping forward, he took the cup from Dukes' meaty hands and sipped it.

"Good thinking. Come on lads, the matters between women are not meant to be exhibited to men like so," Blight announced. Despite the pleasant tone, the look he cast from behind his shades on the Brotherhood told them it was an order.

Toad and Avalanche moved to the stairs, Toad uncaring and Avalanche a bit disappointed. Pietro remained where he was, but Blight was certain Rogue was unaware of his presence. Blight wondered why Beseler released him; had Magneto overruled him? Regardless, he was here now, and perhaps he might do well to witness?

Either way, Blight gestured with his head back towards the door and Dukes followed him, after a moment of confusion.

The atmosphere outside was far freer, and Blob actually let out a sigh as Blight closed the door behind them. The old teacher let the young mutant take in the chilled night a moment before speaking.

"I am impressed Dukes, you have made real progress," Lazarus congratulated the large lad. The poor light still let him see the boy beam at the praise. This one required approval and encouragement, and his loyalty unerringly belonged to those that provided it. Here and now that was a blessing for Blight's cause. God always provides a way, it is we who fail to recognize the opportunity, Lazarus thought.

"Roses in the snow, dropped by the soldier in retreat," Lazarus announced from nowhere.

"What?" Blob asked, his good mood quelled by confusion.

"State the first part, I will respond with the second. If I don't, it's Mystique, do not let her near Rogue or anyone," Blight ordered as he descended the porch.

"Where are you going?" Fred asked, hoping he could remember all that. Lazarus didn't answer, adjusting his hat before turning back to face Dukes.

"I'm going to kill Mystique," he answered simply.

_Inside:_

Rogue knew glaring at her mother was far from pointless. Irene's senses were sharp; it had been a revelation for her as a little child to understand what being blind meant. Even if her mother couldn't see her, she was pouring all her anger into her expression till her fists were shaking at her side.

Still, Irene only looked sad, waiting for something. Soon enough, Rogue did break the tense silence.

"You knew," Rogue accused.

"You let a crazy woman chase me around like an animal when I was messed up in the head. And then you told me to go with her, that I'd be safe with her," Rogue growled. Irene opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Rogue's hand flying up. Rogue's skin darkened to blue and she spoke with Mystique's voice.

"I took her power, and somehow her memories. I know everything," Rogue stated. She frowned, not liking that voice coming from her mouth. She let the power go, lightening to alabaster again.

"Then you know I didn't want you harmed," Irene stated. It wasn't defensive, simply a fact laid out.

"But I was," Rogue whispered.

"Raven was afraid I valued you more than her, you know this. It's true my child," Irene told her.

"She gave me to you, rented me out," Rogue spat. Irene frowned, looking hurt for the first time since Rogue caught sight of her.

"I see the future unreliably; I am called Destiny as a joke. What value is there in seeing the future if it can't be changed? But it can, at certain points with certain people.

"People like you Rogue. You are destined for greatness, but there are so many outcomes. Not like me; I lack the power or the will to realize the ambitions I once held. I looked up to Raven because she possessed what I lacked. That admiration was the root of a friendship.

"I don't know who your father is, nor does Raven. It shames her, and not only did you remind her of the shame, but she also feared the return of those parts of herself that she spent so many years burying.

"So she entrusted you to me, someone that was no threat to anyone. Someone she felt she could rely on, and I was so honored by that trust.

"I never foresaw that being a mother would make everything else fade. I never wanted that night to come; it was selfish, but when you left the nest I didn't want you to fly into the storm.

"You could have been a fine X-Man; that was a possibility. But a mother wants what's best for her child, and Xavier will never put a person before his cause. Magneto, though, is driven by the ghosts of victims; he would risk all for one under the right circumstances. Blight, while not a man I like, his madness is such that he will die for his people if given a choice.

"Since the moment you called me your mother, bit by bit your well being has eclipsed all the things I once cherished.

"I am sorry I could not give you something better. I could have done better than try and manipulate destiny. If you want, I will go, we don't need to see each other again," Irene explained. The last words were broken in a way no actor could imitate. The possibility hung over her head ready to fall. She could feel Rogue turn away from her, emotions at a fever turmoil.

Pietro frowned, seeing a tear slip through Rogue's scrunched up eyes. He knew what was coming, the severance. That was life; illusions give way to endless disappointment.

"Mystique?" Rogue asked, her voice strained.

"Whatever you choose, I am done with Raven… She will not relent, and I can no longer support her," Irene hesitated, because it was no small thing to cut someone's only link to the world. It made it real enough for Rogue to fall to her knees. Instinctively, Irene rushed forward, falling to her own, reaching out.

The blind woman stopped before contact, fearful of what reaction her touch may have. Pale hands gently gripped her sleeves as Rogue carefully drew her mother into a hug, keeping cloth between them.

"I'm so fuckin' tired," Rogue moaned, crying openly.

"Don't curse dear, it makes you sound crude," Irene sobbed back.

Pietro walked away in silence.

_Elsewhere:_

Mystique, in her principal form, slipped through her door, bolting it behind her. She sighed, letting the trench coat covering her nakedness slip. She cared little for modesty herself; that pride had been lost long ago to the cruel practicality of her world. Still, it did not fit with her persona, and that was something she still held much pride in.

Fleeting thoughts of coffee were dispelled as she walked into her well-decorated kitchen. Reflex saw her changing as she dropped to the ground, a bullet streaking through the space her head had just occupied.

He anticipated her moving away from the obvious cover, a shot biting into where she should be rolling. Her anticipation of him saw a bullet wasted on plaster and wood as she took cover behind the island.

His next shot shattered the cutlery holder after her hand plucked a knife from it. The cleaver landed near her, a blessing of luck not to be discounted.

When she popped up, he stepped aside from the cleaver hurtling towards his chest. His shot grazed her arm before the stool struck him in the chest. A spark jumped as he caught the knife on the barrel of the pistol, falling to the floor.

Mystique leapt back with a hiss as the left hand struck for her face, the glove disintegrating around it.

Blight was on his feet as she glanced around to see any other weapons at hand. A glance inspection of the slightly bent barrel led him to throw it at Mystique. She swatted it aside, ignoring the flare of pain in her forearm. Her knife was cracked, her reach was longer than his, but all he needed was one fleeting grip on her.

They spotted the third arrival at the same time. In one case by superior senses, and the other by long experience in having people sneak up on him. Either way, they both could do nothing as chains erupted from the darkness to bind them.

"Now children, don't make me separate you," Magneto's voice echoed in cold sarcasm. Twisting their heads as the chains lifted them off the ground, they could make him out in silhouette, a strip of his chest plate illuminated by the predawn light filtering in.

"Lord Magneto," Lazarus tried to sound courteous as his hands began breaking down the chains near them, only for the metal to move higher, away from the offending appendages.

"As usual, fortuitous timing. Though I would like to dispose of this rabid dog personally," Mystique exuded confidence, shifting into her true form.

"I am displeased with both of you, otherwise one of you would not be bound," Magneto stated coldly.

"She has betrayed your orders by attempting to murder a student of great value. An example needs to be made," Blight objected.

"You are here without orders or permission. Have I not warned you that I would not tolerate your impulsive bloodlust after Sonora?" Magneto reminded him. Blight frowned, but stayed silent. Magneto's attention turned to Mystique, who had stopped struggling, but whose eyes still simmered with anger.

"Yet his point is far from invalid. Your actions today nearly cost us a most promising recruit, and the gamble was made solely for your benefit. I will choose the moment our cold war with Xavier bursts into flame, not you Mystique.

"You have proven a diligent and most effective operative, enough so that I gave you the benefit of the doubt on your leadership abilities. But my patience reaches its end with your failures and near mutinous actions.

"I will not grant John's wish, out of deference to your services rendered. You retain your titles and rank for now, save for Rogue who I now place under a more capable master," Magneto declared. Lazarus grinned for a moment, before slipping from the chains to the floor. A new apprentice; it would complicate his work with the lads, but complications happened in the business. At the least, he could accelerate indoctrination, provided Destiny did not interfere.

Magneto was not done with Mystique.

"However, when the time of the test comes, you too must prove yourself. Show me your skill and power warrants my grace for your many faults," Magneto told Mystique, releasing her. Mystique crouched on the ground, seemingly attempting to melt the floorboards with her glare. After all she had done for Magneto, he would test her like her pathetic charges and Xavier's students? !

Inexcusable.

Lazarus was also not pleased. Both with Mystique, and the strange manner of his master. It may be necessary for him to set little birds to listening at this rate. But for now he vanished into the night following his master's lead.

She didn't rise until after Blight and Magneto left. She wouldn't even try to sleep; anger at the two old men filled her too much for that as she prepared for the coming day.

_Brotherhood House:_

Lazarus walked up the porch to find Fred Dukes leaning against the wall next to the door. Awake but not too alert… well, perfection was too much to ask.

"How are things?" Lazarus asked, stepping in front of the door.

"…Roses in the snow?" Blob asked, scrunching his face slightly as if to help concentrate.

"Dropped by the soldier in retreat, very good. Now my question," Lazarus chuckled.

"Some yelling, then crying, now nothing. What's going on?" Blob asked, glancing at the door.

"Ah, the strange, senseless, and logical love of parent-child. A bitter and exceedingly sweet nectar to partake of Mr. Dukes," Lazarus sighed, wistfully reaching out to take the doorknob.

"What would you know about it?" Dukes grumbled, finding his own experience rather wanting.

The ungloved hand paused millimeters from the mantle…

_Blood was all over his hands, sticky and warm, his grip loosened._

_"Don't you dare drop it, don't you dare vomit," the doctor growled. The boy did neither; he simply reached for some straw with a trembling hand, hoping to clean it off._

_"Don't bother, there will more blood and other fluids before we finish. Now, the first incision," the doctor ordered. He had been right, there was still more blood to get on his hands._

The hand closed over the doorknob, twisting it.

"Not too much," John Lazarus admitted as he opened to door in front of him, and eased one in his mind shut again.

Rogue was on the couch, lying down asleep, head in Irene's lap. Quite the change from the determinedly tough lass he had gotten to know; as her adoptive mother stroked her hair, her white face was utterly peaceful. With the blue veins prominent under the lack of makeup, she seemed to be made out of snow and ice, but not cold?

"You didn't kill her," Irene stated quietly. Lazarus frowned; it may well have been a mistake to let this play out. Rogue needed to become stronger, and that didn't happen by crawling back into the nest. Tonight with only a few words he could have severed this bond, yet he hadn't.

"Perhaps it is because as much as you try to act as a man condemned to Hell you are a good man? Too good to voluntarily crush something you cherish, valuing it as only the lacking can?" Irene offered.

"You can't read minds," Lazarus stated.

"I don't need to; you have left yourself open tonight, too. Sadly, you'll both be manning your walls come morning. I'll be gone before she wakes up.

"Destiny will be cruel to her whatever path she takes; I can do no more for my daughter. So I have no choice but to entrust her to you and plans you haven't even made yet," Irene seethed, looking down to Rogue's face.

"When we tell them we can keep them safe, it's a lie for our benefit as much as theirs," Lazarus agreed. He left for bed, collecting Dukes; the sun would soon rise and the world would spin anew.

_Xavier Institute, Later:_

It took a moment for Scott to realize he was awake. He felt lousy, and as such, his first thoughts were wondering why he felt lousy. Opening his eyes he saw a ceiling that wasn't his room's and glanced to the side. He was in a bed at the medical wing; if he doubted his ruby vision, the smell of disinfectant clenched it.

'How did I get here?' he wondered. He remembered the trip, Jean had been upset she couldn't go, and Rogue was… Two wires seemed to connect in his brain letting the light bulbs come on. Cyclops sat upright, looking around, thoughts near panic on what had happened. Where was Rogue; he remembered being saved but it was fuzzy, what exactly happened?

"Calm down Scott, you and Rogue both managed to come through your ordeal in one piece," Professor Xavier counseled as he rolled through the door into the medical bay.

"Professor, where's Rogue?" Scott asked; as ever, his first concern was for others, and he didn't see her in one of the other beds in the room.

"Rogue may be more delicate than you normally, but Mystique's powers let her weather your ordeal better. She has gone home with Blight, no doubt to rest as you have been. You've been asleep for quite awhile, the others should be breaking for lunch at school just about now," Xavier told him, coming up to his bedside.

"What, why did you let them take her? !" Scott demanded, trying to get up only to fall back.

"Scott, you're not helping yourself. I did not let Rogue be taken by anyone. That is something I would never allow to happen here. Rogue chose to go back to the Brotherhood of her own will; it seems she has every intention of continuing to follow Blight," Xavier told him calmly, but with an air of sadness. Scott was shocked silent for a moment.

"What? But she knows we didn't… Mystique tried to kill her! How can she still make the wrong choice like this? !" Scott demanded angrily. Xavier put a hand on his student's shoulder, sending him a calming pulse of psi.

"You have reason to be upset Scott, but this is part of the sad truth of the world I am afraid," Xavier told him solemnly.

"Blight and Mystique are enemies in the Hidden Society; it is likely Rogue is now tied to him further by a mutual hatred for Mystique. Blight would seem to be the winner of the events that unfolded on the mountain. But you did the right thing regardless of how matters turned out," Xavier reassured him.

"Then why did it turn out wrong?" Scott insisted, laying back and frowning.

"Because people have the ability to choose, and they can make the wrong choice for the right reasons, the right choice for the wrong reasons, and so much more. Tragically, many of those cast by history as villains never thought of themselves as such, they usually believed they were just or at the very least proper in their actions. That holds true to this day.

"Remember that the X-Men were part of the Hidden Society, and it wasn't only people like Blight and Mystique that remained on the other side of the divide. There were and are people among the opposition whom I respected and confided in. Divergent beliefs in what constitutes right and wrong cost me my dearest friend, and now we must be enemies because we both believe ourselves to be right and the other gone astray," Xavier confessed. Scott listened intently; he knew about the Schism, but he had never really considered how personal and painful it must have been. He imagined the X-Men splitting up for whatever reason. It left him with a cold feeling in his bones, and the HS had been around for years before breaking up.

"The Schism should have happened much sooner, by staying I and others contributed too much to their cause. Things we couldn't take back.

"It's good to have a heart Scott, but it can blind you to the truth so easily. The facts and trends were bare in front of me, but I knew to acknowledge them would mean having to act on them. And I wasn't willing to give up the only true friendship I had formed in my life of aloofness and intellectual isolation.

"I did what I had to do Scott, for the greater good.

"Mutant powers can allow us to do things never dreamed of before, but we cannot, we _must not_ change people's ability to make their own choices. Even though the choices they make may lead to disaster.

"It is good for you to want Rogue to see the light, but she has turned her back on it to walk a path that leads to hatred, violence, and madness. Only she can turn herself around, and until then your first concern must be for your fellow X-Men by your side, and the innocents you have been trained to protect," Xavier stated. Scott lay on the bed, silently thinking on what was said.

"Get some rest, the other students will be keen to see you out of here as soon as possible. Jean was quite keen on staying by your bed until you awakened, Logan had to practically throw her out," the Professor smiled as he turned to go.

The Professor could take some reassurance from Scott being introduced to the concept of the Greater Good. With any luck, the events with Rogue would lead him to buttressing himself against ties to the opposition from now on.

And it was clear he would need to rely on Scott more and Jean less for the time being. He would also have to remember to give her back her mind before Scott saw her again. He disliked using such punishments, but her actions had cost him Rogue's allegiance; thus a certain amount of harshness was warranted.

* * *

**AN:**

_Has it really been six months? Gads. Well, having gotten to a good stopping place last chapter I tried to focus on other works for a while, and a while turned out to be longer than anticipated._

_This seems too short a chapter for such a long break. And it took longer still cause I needed a new beta to help get the emotional scenes good and not corny. At least with a planned break on Queen coming up I should be able to get this back to a saner update schedule._

_Next chapter we see further divergence with a new face at the Institute, some school matters, and Sabretooth too._


	12. Predator

Give my creation life! LIIIIIFE!

**Disclaimer**:_ I do not own X-Men Evolution._

**Betaed by**: Zim'sMostLoyalServant

* * *

**Predator**

The Brotherhood was spread out around their usual table in the cafeteria. Blob sat with a wide berth, digging into a food-laden tray. It turned out he wasn't a sloppy eater at all. A big eater, yes, but he was neat if not fancy, making no more mess than one would expect. Toad and Rogue seemed to be talking… at least, he talked and she seemed to respond occasionally, pushing her food around her plate for an occasional bite.

The real new development was the seeming rapport between Alvars and Pietro. The white haired teen's appetite seemed to rival Dukes' – not so surprising when you think about it.

"Hey!" Scott protested. His chicken sandwich being snatched from his plate drew the X-Men captain's attention away from the competition. Kurt grinned, holding out the sandwich, taking a deep whiff of it but not biting.

"If you're not going to eat it, someone should," the disguised mutant pointed out. Scott grabbed the sandwich back and took a bite out of it.

"Seriously Scott, Elf has a point; you need to lighten up. Lunch is about winding down. But for you, it's just tensing up. Right Kitty? …Kitty?" Evan added. It seemed they had misplaced their brunette at some point. Evan shrugged and took the last bite of his own sandwich.

"More than that, you need to get over this Rogue thing. I mean, at this rate Jean's going to get jealous," Kurt continued. He used a ketchup-coated fry to point to where the beautiful redhead sat chatting with her fellow lady jocks.

"You know it's not like that. I just wonder what I could have done differently," Scott admitted. They were pleased he didn't sound too sad about it now.

"I know what you mean – I messed up big on that mission. But hey, ve can't get hung up on it," Kurt answered.

"So true, even the best players lose one sometime," Evan put in.

"Scott!" Kitty called, sitting down with a thinly covered tray. No sandwich, Scott noted. Hopefully it was because she was late and not some diet nonsense. You needed food when you did the kind of exercises the X-Men did.

"What's up, Kitty?" Kurt asked as she took a seat.

"Scott, there's a play the school's putting on," Kitty stated, looking at the teen with shades.

"Hmm, oh yeah. Dracula, right?" Scott answered after a moment of thought.

"Right up your alley, right Elf?" Evan commented, nudging Kurt with his elbow.

"Ha, ha," Kurt drawled sarcastically.

"I was wondering… Would it be alright if I tried out?" Kitty asked.

"Sure," Scott answered. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Good – I almost signed up, but I was worried, with all the… after-school activities," she caught herself, glancing around a bit.

"Well, we have to clear it with the Professor, of course. But if Jean's soccer works, I don't see why this wouldn't," Scott told her.

"You'll be great Kitty!" Kurt exclaimed. She thanked him, and Evan was certain he would be blushing if the hologram had that feature.

**XXX**

Rogue signed her name with a flourish on the end before replacing the pen in her pocket. The pale mutant smiled, looking over the sheet for the play. She had avoided the cliché of Dracula Bride, signing up for the role of Mina. There was no guarantee she would get it, of course, and she may yet be a vampire bride. But she preferred to aim for the lead to start with.

"Finally, this school offers something I can enjoy," she muttered. Someone stepped up as she turned away, bumping shoulders. They both recovered easily with practiced reflex, but glanced to see whom they had hit.

"Pryde?" Rogue asked, surprised.

"Rogue? Like, what are you doing?" Kitty asked herself.

"Organizing a petition to save the whales. I signed up for Dracula," Rogue drawled, stepping aside.

"Like, that's what I'm doing," Kitty answered. Rogue gave a small chuckle as Kitty looked over the roles again. The small X-girl caught it and looked over at the other mutant.

"Like, what?" Kitty demanded of the Goth.

"Well, you just don't seem Dracula material, X-Girl. I mean, you're so sunny a vampire would explode if he bit you," Rogue commented, brushing some white hair out of her face.

"Very funny. It's called acting Rogue; it's, like, about being someone other than yourself," Kitty rolled her eyes. Rogue shook her head as the brunette signed up for a Dracula Bride role. Feeling unfriendly attention, Rogue frowned and glanced to see an unwelcome arrival had been eavesdropping. She pulled up her meager mental defenses to keep alert for trespassing.

"Well said, Kitty. It's not like Rogue needs to act, she already sucks the life out of people," Jean commented.

"Better than being a mind snooper. How private are your thoughts, Kitty?" Rogue asked, though her attention was on the redhead.

"Well, I-" Kitty began.

"I don't snoop around in my friends' heads. And where does a supremacist get off lecturing anyone?" Jean demanded. Rogue scowled, looking around.

"You're one to talk, little miss 'I am so, so perfect, do what I say'. I can see why Scott's the leader – if you were in charge, the X-Men would mutiny before Thursday," Rogue retorted.

"Oh, cat fight," Toad grinned, leaning against a locker to watch. Jean looked past Rogue at the sign up sheet; she smiled, turning her eyes back to the Goth.

"Hmm, I see there's a position for backstage manager. I think I'd better keep an eye on you around my friend, assuming you get in at all," Jean stated.

"What?" Kitty slipped in. Jean signed her name to the sheet and smiled at Rogue before walking off. Rogue glared at her back, and that perfect red hair. How the hell do you get that much hair to cooperate, she wondered?

'Bitch must spend her free time prettying herself up. Can't wait till I get to fight her, show her what happens when you spend time training instead of being a pampered princess,' Rogue thought furiously.

Still, she realized, Jean was going to be on her case. She was not about to back down, or get double-teamed. No offense to Pryde, but that girl she could all too easily see being led around by the queen bee.

Fortunately she spotted her own malleable back up close at hand.

"Toad, you're Renfield!" Rogue called to her grungy teammate.

"Say what?" Toad cocked his head.

"What just happened?" Kitty wondered as she watched Rogue practically force Toad to sign the sheet.

**XXX**

"His name is Zane Coleman, codename unknown. He is a rookie, having just been recruited by Xavier. He seems to have a good grasp of raw power, but we lack details on his proficiency. He has been rendered mute by his mutation – whether that is physical or psychological, we do not know.

"His physical stats are unremarkable as of his last physical examination. His school records refer to him as above average in most fields, but lazy in applying himself to anything but music," Lazarus explained as the Brotherhood passed around a picture of the X-Man junior.

"A guy with sound powers is a musician? Cliché!" Pietro laughed.

"Stranger things happen. And we might have him on our side if not for your little stunt, Pietro.

"Try to avoid a scrap with this one until I get a better idea of his threat level. And keep an eye on him; this is a good time to hone your observation skills," Lazarus ordered as the picture came back to him and he tucked it under a paper clip. He closed the folder and the Brotherhood took that moment to leave, save for Rogue, who walked up to him.

"Questions regarding the budding rock star?" Lazarus asked, walking into the living room. Rogue followed him as he took a seat on one of the chairs; she took the end of the couch closest to him.

"No, I wanted to ask your permission for something," she corrected. Though he was leaning back in the chair, she could feel his attention on her. The sunglasses may have been part of his look, but at times like this she wished she could see his eyes.

"Are you asking permission to do something, or pardon for having done something?" he asked.

"…Both?

"I signed up for the school drama, it's Dracula. And don't you dare make a crack on the whole life sucking thing!" she told him quickly.

"Ah, a thespian endeavor. For all my flare for dramatics, particularly in my younger days, I never had the spark for the theater. I tended to stand up on slightly different stages.

"Well, no inherent harm, though it will not be permitted to interfere with your training and obligations. I expect you to ensure it doesn't before I have to," Blight said, rubbing his chin. Rogue relaxed in her seat, and remembered there was more.

"I also signed Toad up?" she told him.

"Renfield?" he sighed.

"Yes," Rogue confirmed.

"Not his idea, I take it," the teacher stated.

"No, but I needed back up. Pryde and Jean Gray are involved."

The burned man smiled at that.

"Hmm, it's been a bit since I had to deal with teen girls and their feuds. Fortunately, this time it's across enemy lines, for once. Very well, I will approve your little press ganging, but you will be responsible for it," Lazarus decided. Rogue got up and gave him a questioning look.

"Responsible?" she asked.

"Yes, you pressed him so as to get your back covered. Therefore, I expect you to cover his back in turn. You don't leave comrades or subordinates hung out to dry without a terribly good reason."

"So I have to be nice to him now?" Rogue frowned.

"It will be easier for both of you if you do. And if you should fail, I still have the scissors," Lazarus reminded her seriously.

"Fine, it will be worth it to knock Jean down a peg," Rogue grumbled, crossing her arms. Lazarus grabbed a newspaper as she walked toward the parlor.

"Remember to have fun!" he called after her, smiling.

**XXX**

"There is _no way_ this is going to be fun," Toad told Rogue. The two of them were sitting on the stage of the auditorium, legs dangling as they held their scripts.

"Dancing? A _dancing_ Dracula bride?" Rogue growled. This wasn't exactly shaping into Bram Stoker.

"Hey, if I'm reading this right, I've got nearly twice as many lines as you!" Toad realized. Rogue couldn't tell if he was happy about it or not; either way, hitting him over the head with her rolled up script was appropriate.

"Ah, young love," Rogue heard someone say. Frowning, she glared around, and spotted the light reflecting off something between two front row seats.

"Hey!" she called, sliding down onto the floor. Evan Daniels rose up from hiding, camera in hand.

"Hey yourself, Rogue. I'm just doing some candid camera, for extra credit," he told her.

"Extra credit? Defending your jock privileges, I imagine," Rogue sneered, crossing her arms.

"Hey now, don't go throwing around stereotypes. But then again, a Goth playing Dracula's bride… you do seem to play into them yourself," Evan mused. The X-Man assumed a thoughtful pose; Rogue knew when she was being mocked.

Evan got a bad feeling when Rogue smiled at him. She glanced to Toad, still sitting on the stage.

"Toad, why don't you help Evan with his extra credit?" she asked. The other mutant looked at her, leaning back.

"What's in it for me?" he asked.

"Ten bucks and I help you memorize those lines so you don't make a fool of yourself," Rogue offered.

"Deal," Toad smiled.

"Hey now," Evan said. The X-Man moved into the aisle, backing up as Toad jumped down, landing in a crouch.

"I'm betting ya aren't allowed to cut loose here. But Toad's tricks aren't so obvious," Rogue chuckled.

"Uh, Rogue, I'm stuck," Tolansky spoke up nervously. Sure enough, Rogue saw he was trying to rise from his position but seemed unable to.

"Thanks Jean," Evan whispered, before sprinting up the aisle and out of the auditorium door. Toad stood up so quick he almost lost his balance. Rogue caught his shoulder, steadying him.

"Go, send Daniels up a tree. If he wants to be good, he should suffer a bit for his art," Rogue told him.

"Yeah, I'm on it; just have my ten bucks ready," he told her. He ran out normally, and Rogue turned to watch a certain redhead walk out from backstage. Jean Grey glared down at her; Rogue hated that she had given up the high ground.

"Don't you idiots know to behave in public at least?" Jean asked. She had her hands on her hips, full scold position assumed.

"If Lazarus doesn't like what we do, we end up knowing it. Gotta wonder if you X-Men know your own heads, what with sticky fingers ready to get into 'em," Rogue taunted.

"You have no idea what you're talking bout," Jean retorted.

"Neither do you. Steer clear of us and we don't have to interact any more than the play requires," Rogue told her.

"First you two have to behave. Everyone knows the Brotherhood is for delinquents – no one would think twice if you were kicked out for misbehaving," Jean reminded her.

"Pfft, whatever. If you ever get back from your latest ego trip, give me a call, Red," Rogue said while pantomiming holding a phone. Grabbing Tolansky's dropped script, she walked out, happy to feel Jean glaring into her back.

**XXX**

"Owww," Toad groaned on the school pavement. Evan smiled and gave the newest X-Man a high five. Zane smiled, looking a bit amused by it all.

"I had this man, but thanks for the back up," Evan said. The silent teen gave him a thumb's up. Groaning, Toad pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his ears.

"That's the problem with you X-Dorks, find one and there's just more to come," Toad grumbled.

"Hey man, you started this, you and Rogue," Evan told him. Spitting some slime on the sidewalk, the Brotherhood mutant turned and made his way back up the steps towards the school. Dismissing him with the contest won, Evan gave some consideration to his new friend.

"You know Zane, I could see you had a wicked punch with that voice. But seeing it take someone down like that is something else. You don't even have to worry about clean up like I do," Evan told him. He clapped the other teen on the shoulder, who rolled his eyes and pointed. Evan followed the finger and saw the cracked glass in the nearest windows.

"Oh, well it's still easier to explain than a bunch of spikes. Later man!" Evan said. Getting back on his board, he glided off, leaving the amused musician to readjust his guitar and head off on the campus.

It would be several minutes before Evan realized he had lost the camera that had set the little incident in motion. Plenty of time for its current holder to examine its contents, and replace it on the ground. No one would be the wiser, but where was the fun in the prey not knowing you are coming?

**XXX**

"Xavier has taken his alert level up at least two notches," Lazarus announced. He sat at his customary seat in the kitchen, the three other chairs holding Rogue, Avalanche, and Toad. Blob leaned back slightly against the counter holding the sink, careful to keep most of his weight on his feet. Quicksilver, as always, lingered in the doorway, making a point of not paying attention.

"What has Wheels' panties in a twist?" Lance asked. He smirked a bit at his own wit, Toad snickering with Blob also smiling.

"Sabretooth is in town," Lazarus told them. If any of the other students had been looking at him, they would have seen Pietro snap into attention, now _quite_ interested in the conversation. As it was, their focus was on the old mutant.

"Are we supposed to know who that is?" Rogue drawled, lowering her chin onto her gloved palm.

"A long time Hidden Society soldier and assassin. One of the best ever, actually, though infamously difficult to keep in line when his blood is up. In particular where the Wolverine is concerned. Their blood feud stretches for decades."

Rogue sucked in a breath and straightened up in her chair. The boys were impressed that one of the most dangerous X-Men had something like that going on. Rogue, despite knowing the facts, couldn't help but think of the howling maniac that had hunted her like an animal.

'It wasn't him, it was the bitch. He wasn't so nasty in the jet. Scary, but not nasty,' Rogue told herself. Still, guys who named themselves after vicious animals could not possibly be good news.

"If he is here and Lord Magneto has not acted, it means he is going to kick up the ants' nest. I doubt he considers any of Xavier's students worthy of the hunt, but they could become pawns in the blood feud. I have not been instructed to stand aside, but nor have I been ordered to mobilize.

"So it would seem, despite letting a new danger drop into the mix, our superiors do not want the status quo flipped just yet. We will be running interference," Lazarus explained.

"Are you out of your mind?! I am not getting between those two!" Pietro shouted. Everyone jerked in surprise at the outburst, save for the scarred man.

"Chicken," Blob laughed. Pietro glared at the big teen, who just crossed his arms, returning it.

"Just as I would expect from you, Pietro. Still, it's your lucky day. And while I would appreciate aid from you others, for what I have in mind, we will require only the services of Rogue. That is, if she is up to it," Lazarus smiled. Rogue felt their eyes settle on her; she had to consciously stop herself from taking her hands off the table.

Was she about to be sent into the personal war zone of two badasses? That did not sound safe at all.

'But when am I ever going to be safe?' she wondered. Mystique had brought the safe world she had shared with her real mother crashing down. There was no crawling back; the only choice was how to walk on in this insane new life.

"Yeah, I'm sick of just being a fire brigade. Any chance I can start something for once?" Rogue asked.

**XXX**

Rogue did not sense Sabretooth's arrival. What she had seen as she brought in the simple white teapot for Lazarus was him shift in his seat. How he brushed the back of his hand against his unbuttoned coat where she knew he kept a pistol hidden, not checking its presence; she was sure he had carried heat so long he would notice its absence as readily as other people realized they had pulled on a shoe without the socks.

It was a cue, telling her to be ready. So it was with greater haste than normal that she put the teapot down on the tray between the three teacups set out.

She started to straighten up, but a subtle wave sent her onto the chair opposite Lazarus. Unless their visitor was taking the couch, Lazarus was expecting him to stand.

"He's not the sitting type," he plucked the comment from her head.

What he did next surprised her. He shrugged off his coat, revealing the long sleeved white shirt and black vest under it. And the two guns holstered there.

The door opened without so much as a knock, and Rogue got her first sight of Sabretooth.

"Welcome to Bayville, Victor. Fine scenery in a sort of post-modern Norman Rockwell sense, wouldn't you say?

"I forget – do you take your tea with sugar or cream?" Lazarus asked, filling the third cup.

"I didn't come here for tea time," Sabretooh growled. His eyes passed over Lazarus, giving no more attention to his guns than the teacup he held.

Rogue, though… when he looked at her, there was intensity. She would have liked to say she held her own and sneered, or just returned some disinterested look. The truth was much less dignified, as she felt him measure her for a coffin.

The clink of a teacup into a saucer broke the moment, turning the killer's attention away from her. And that was what he was, Rogue realized. Mystique had been ready to kill, but it was mixed with other bits of wickedness. This man, though, was a beast. This was a man, she realized as she lifted her own trembling cup, who required a reason to hold back his killer instinct.

"The beauty of tea is that it is not essential. You enjoy it for the sake of enjoying it. To try and give it some deeper meaning, like in the chanyou, is to miss the entire point," Lazarus mused.

"Make your point or I make you uglier," Sabretooth growled. Lazarus smiled at him.

"Manners – I can appreciate gruff, rough and tumble; truly, I can. But rudeness from guests over tea, that skirts a line.

"But as you wish. Your little blood feud is bleeding over again. Once more it muddies the waters between Xavier and the Hidden Society. You and Logan are both reliable after a fashion, until you draw near to each other.

"No, no, I'm not going to try to divert you from your obsession. There is a certain savage beauty to your quest I appreciate, Victor. But if I must endure your storm, I wish to harness it."

Lazarus put his tea down and got to his feet. Rogue watched him pick up the third cup and saucer and carry it to Sabretooth. He cupped the saucer, holding the offering out to the savage man. Sabretooth glanced at the hand holding the tea and Lazarus' ruined face.

He took the cup, wrapping thumb and forefinger around it, ignoring the handle.

"What. Do. You. Want?" Sabretooth demanded.

"Cooperation – in exchange for license to pursue Logan and even gain some aid in return, I have a few small rules," Lazarus explained, returning to his seat.

"I don't need anything from you, the runt is mine," he growled.

"Yes, yes, this would be more preventing the X-Men from interfering than direct aid.

"Speaking of which, keep them out of harm's way if you can. I would sooner take direct action against Xavier's operation, but the orders demand we let them develop for now.

"So, you accept my assistance and refrain from violent extremes with the X-Men. In exchange, you get your latest rematch with the Wolverine," Lazarus offered.

"What assistance?" Sabretooth demanded. Lazarus took a sip of his tea and pointed to Rogue. She practically choked on her own sip of tea.

"Her?" Sabretooth demanded. Rogue went from surprised to angry in a heartbeat, reading the dismissal in his voice and face.

"Correct. I know you don't keep up, so I will enlighten you. Young Rogue can absorb and copy powers temporarily. I want her to copy yours and accompany you."

"You think she can just steal my power and use it just like that?" Sabretooth asked irritably.

"No, but the experience will be good for her. And I expect you will give her some pointers. After all, if she dies or some such, that would be bad for you, Victor. Very bad indeed," Lazarus explained. He set his empty teacup down. Sabretooth glared at the burned man, weighing his options.

Finally, he gave a brief nod Rogue almost missed.

"Well done. Rogue?" the elder mutant asked, glancing to her. Rogue resisted the urge to take a deep breath and pulled off her gloves.

**XXX**

Rogue was flying; her heart pounded in a rapid rhythm like a drum beat in her chest as the wind whipped her hair.

The world was a blur around her, a choking pressure in her sinuses, thunder in her ears. She roared, whether in pleasure or pain she couldn't say. Was there a difference? She couldn't recall at the moment.

Two rocks plowed into her back as she ran on all fours through the woods. The air was knocked out of the fur-covered girl with a hacking sound. Sabretooth stood on her back and scowled, shrugging off his jacket. Stepping off her, she came up and swiped at his smug face with her new claws; his hands were covered by leather work-gloves cut to accommodate his claws. Contrary to popular belief, he had plans – not for a leech like this, but it worked. He batted her strike aside and struck her across bared fangs with the back of his other hand.

She stumbled and almost fell when he was on her with his coat, grabbing her in a bear hug shielded by the thick cloth. She roared and struggled, but he was a tiger gripping an alley cat. He slammed her into a tree three times, stopping when she wasn't struggling.

"Better?" he asked.

"Ouch," Rogue moaned. He dropped her and began to inspect his coat while she rubbed her chest and head.

"Don't bother, you have my healing," the fighter gruffed, pulling his coat back on.

"Why am I the only one covered in fur?" Rogue demanded. From her enlarged claw-toed feet to two stripes in her neck, she was covered in thick fur matching her hair. Hmm, right down to two white stripes on the side of her torso, she noted. Her clothes hadn't all fared well with the additional height and bulk she had gained.

'I look like werewolf jailbait.'

"I shave," Sabretooth shrugged. Rogue fingered her shoulder length bangs and felt her mane-length hair. It was not as bad as the bloating from Duke's powers, at least.

"Sensory shock, it happens. But it better not happen again, I have things to do," he growled. She nodded before she noticed it, instinct kicking in before an alpha. He caught it in her scent and gave a sincere grin for the fist time she had seen. She decided she didn't like it.

**XXX**

"You sure about this, Kitty?" Scott asked. He stood with the underclass girl and Logan at the head of one of the training paths he used. A course that included lethal projectiles. It still struck him how surreal the sunny and green landscapes of the Institute housed death traps most government facilities would be impressed by.

"Half Pint here wants to see what she can do. I'll be keeping pace with her, and you're back up with your blasters," Wolverine said, pulling his mask down.

"Logan, Kitty can't heal, if something goes wrong-"

"You two won't be in training forever Scott; this gets real. That means doing things you aren't comfortable with, and having to cover for your team instead of leaping in yourself," Logan cut him off.

"Like, it's okay, I've got this," Kitty cut in. As she stepped up to the starting line, Logan smiled while Scott frowned.

"Begin simulation!" Wolverine said, the course picking up the command. The man and the teen sprinted down the path, Scott watching, his hand ready at the visor switch.

He watched as Kitty phased through the projectiles, dodging what hazards she could and phasing through the ones she couldn't.

'She's improving,' Scott thought proudly. He couldn't believe she had actually taken to Logan's sessions – no one did that. But her speed and agility had improved greatly, and her power control.

"Am I needed here?" he asked himself. Then Evan rolled by him on that skateboard of his.

"Evan?!" he called out.

Logan turned his head at the name. And saw the rookie X-Man skating down the trail filming them. Instincts alerted him to the danger – razor disk launcher, locked on Kitty, she saw it, but they would phase though her and hit Evan by surprise.

If he knocked Kitty clear, Evan might take the hit. If he warned her, it might distract her from phasing.

There was only one course of action that didn't end with one kid or another mauled or worse.

Turning, he knocked Evan from his board and came about, claws bared, deflecting the deadly projectiles.

"End simulation, now!" he barked. A high-pitched beep confirmed the command as the launchers retracted back into the ground.

Kitty stopped and turned around, clearly confused by the order. She hadn't noticed; it had been a matter of seconds.

"Hey, what's your problem man?" Evan complained, taking off his helmet. Logan grabbed the teen by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.

"Idiot, what are you doing here?! This is live fire training!" Logan growled at him.

"Hey, I was hanging back, just getting some sweet footage of you and Kitty kicking ass," Evan said, holding up his hands. Kitty stopped, surprised to hear something she was doing described as kickass. Scott put a hand on Evan's shoulder and pointed to the mansion's wall with his thumb.

Evan followed the point, and saw what looked like a circular saw blade, buried half way into the stone wall.

"Three of those were gong to hit you. You don't even know if your spikes could have stopped that. Evan, we could have been picking pieces of you up off the lawn," Scott told him. Evan looked away from it only to see a decapitated statue, which he was certain had a head earlier.

"And what are you doing recording this stuff?" Logan demanded. Releasing Evan, he spotted the camera in the grass; Kitty picked it up and handed it to the instructor.

"Hey, that's for school," Evan said. He hoped the angry man was not about to trash the loaned camera. Aside from being too awesome to smash, a failing grade and having to pay back his teacher were not something he wanted to explain to his aunt.

"What? Like, what teacher trusts us with cameras like that?" Kitty asked him.

"Hey kid, got a message for Logan," a new voice sounded. It was coming from the camera in Wolverine's hand. The X-Men clustered around Logan, seeing a feral looking man with red eyes and long dirty blonde hair sneering from the screen.

"If you are listening runt, I'm on your trail. Don't think the cripple holding your leash can protect you. I'm going to settle the score, and anyone that gets in the way is meat.

"See you soon," the wild man grinned. The footage rolled on to the Institute, a door opening slightly, to reveal Jean combing her hair wearing only a towel. Cyclops grabbed the camera and hit the erase button. Evan was too shocked by the message to complain.

"Care to explain why you didn't mention meeting Sabretooth, Porcupine?" Wolverine demanded.

"Hey, this is news to… Toad!

"Rogue sicked Toad on me at school, I got away clean but dropped the camera. Or I thought I dropped it. Toad must have gotten it and handed it off to this guy. And left it for me to pick back up like a chump," Evan realized.

"This is bad, right?" Kitty asked.

"Worse – Sabretooth and Logan have a blood feud going at least back to the sixties. He's a superhuman with enhanced senses, a healing factor on Logan's level, and no problem ripping people apart," Scott told them.

"In other words, this is way out of your league. Session's over, I need to talk with Charles before-" Wolverine was cut off by the alarm blaring.

"Stay here," he ordered, claws ripping out as he charged towards the front of the mansion. The boys exchanged looks, and ran off after him.

"Hey! He said – oh, man!" Kitty objected before following herself.

Rounding the mansion corner, she halted on the edge of a battlefield. That was what came to mind as explosions and smoke covered the front lawn, while monsters roared out of sight. It was only when the security guns went silent she realized they had been firing.

She had seen simulations of the defense system, and had thought it was overkill on the Professor's part. Sabretooth had just ripped a hole in it.

"Good try, Logan. But not good enough!" a gravelly voice called out from the smoke. The man from the video strode out of the smoke. He was huge, and if the state of his biker coat was anything to go by, he had come through his assault unscathed. Even with his attention on Mr. Logan, she felt like she was staring down a predator.

She almost sank into the ground. Logan was right – this was so above her level.

"Wolverine, he's not alone!" Spike shouted. Kitty realized something was lurking behind Sabretooth, low to the ground. Rising off its hands, the other monster came into sight.

"Rogue?" Scott said, stunned. With that word, Kitty could recognize the girl. Her clothes were ripped, revealing brown fur under them, her shoes gone, leaving clawed, fur covered… paws? Even her hair was longer and wilder, her white streaks dangling down her chest and framing a face sporting a fanged mouth. Was she taller?!

Either way, Rogue looked a little too pleased to see them.

"What's this, Victor, calling in back up?" Wolverine taunted.

"Hardly, Lazarus is making me play babysitter. Runt, keep these kids off my back!" He ordered.

He went for Logan; Kitty didn't see what happened next as Rogue rushed forward, pouncing on Evan. The X-Man went down hard, but the Brotherhood girl leapt off him as spikes erupted from his arms.

"Rogue! Stop this!" Scott commanded. Rogue snapped her attention to Scott, his hands held out, far from the visor trigger.

"It's nothing personal, Scott. Just orders," he vice was deeper, gravelly now.

"Really, just ordered to help a psychopath attack us?" Scott demanded. Rogue smiled, going down on all fours, creeping closer to the X-Man captain.

"Well, there's also these powers. I really want to see what I can do with this. Tell me how it feels!" Rogue snarled, leaping. Scott reached for his visor, realizing it would be too late.

Rogue reached him, and plowed through him to hit the grass roughly. Scott blinked behind his visor and felt thin arms tighten around his chest.

"Oh man, too close," Kitty whispered.

"Kitty?" Scott asked. Rogue roared behind them. Letting Scott go, they turned to face the threat. Rogue pulled out a spike from her arm, grimacing as Evan stood at the ready, arms full of projectiles.

"Scott, either get the lead out or get out of here! She-Wolf almost nailed you!" Evan barked.

"SABRETOOTH, WOLVERINE! THIS IS NOT THE PLACE FOR YOUR WAR!" Storm bellowed. She came into sight in the air, a storm at her back. They were all nearly knocked off their feet when the wind hit. Reaching out her arm, Storm sent a lighting bolt out, striking Sabretooth in the chest.

The hulking mutant was sent tumbling back, only to catch himself on the grass. He got up and started walking toward Logan.

"Heh, these powers are awesome!" Rogue cheered. Throwing the spike away, she wiped the blood from her arm, showing the wound to be gone.

A pop and puff of smoke announced Kurt's arrival on the scene, and he wasn't alone. Jean stepped away from the blue mutant, glaring at the intruder.

"Oh yeah! Just who I wanted to sink my claws into," Rogue smiled, flexing her hands.

"You get cast as a vampire and show up as a werewolf. Sounds about right," Jean remarked. Rogue roared and charged the redhead. Narrowing her eyes, Jean swept her hands across her line of sight as she crouched.

The blast knocked Rogue's feet out from under her. The next blast sent her tumbling back into the wind past Scott and Kitty.

"Go Jean, wow!" Kurt cheered, before almost loosing his footing. The winds were picking up as Storm kept hurling lightning down at Sabretooth. Spikes shot into the ground by each X-Man.

"Brace yourselves yo!" Evan called, planting himself with spikes from his left leg. Pushing herself up from the grass she was holding, Rogue looked up into a red flash. Cyclops' blast hit her in the face, sending her crashing back across the lawn, practically to Sabretooth's feet.

"Useless!" Sabretooth cursed. A sweep of Cyclops' attack knocked the attackers both back as another lightning bolt nearly hit Sabretooth. Quickly back on his feet, Sabretooth pulled Rogue up by her long hair.

"This isn't over Logan!" he shouted. Turning and practically dragging Rogue behind him, he fled through the ruined gates.

"No!" Logan shouted, running after them.

"Wolverine, wait!" Storm called. She didn't go after them; letting the wind die down and the sky clear, the instructor floated down to the ground.

"Are you alright?" she asked the students.

"Ah, man, I didn't get to do anything!" Kurt cursed. Kitty fell to her knees.

"Kitty!?" Scott questioned, grabbing her shoulder as Storm swooped down on them.

"That was… scary," Kitty admitted with a trembling smile. Scott returned it.

"Thanks for the save," he told her. He looked to the team gathered around.

"Well, looks like I have some work to do to keep up with you guys now," he said. Kurt laughed it off, but Evan gave him a small frown while crossing his arms.

**XXX**

"Total lockdown, can you believe it?" Evan griped. He was laying back on one of the many couches in the place, sharing it with Zane, who was tweaking his guitar. The guy had like four of them, this one was acoustic, looked like something a camp counselor might have.

Zane nodded. Evan, like the rest of them, had been learning sign language to help communicate with Zane, but the man himself didn't seem interested in learning. Which was annoying to say the least.

"I mean, we're not even going to school because the Professor thinks we might get nabbed by the big bad wolves."

"_Cats,_" Zane mouthed.

"Don't make me turn that hunk of junk into firewood, man. And it's not like I don't dig free vacation, but that isn't what we've got here. This is a siege, just two of them and we have to baton down the hatches. That ain't right, and what are we supposed to do when more of these Society creeps pop out of the woodwork?"

"_Plan?_" Zane mouthed. Evan was about to say something about Zane having not done anything to give him nark rights. Then it hit him – no one on the other side had seen Zane in action, Toad didn't count. And those two had enhanced senses…

"Actually, I do have something. But we'll need a way to slip past the faculty and off the grounds," Evan told him. Zane smiled; putting down the guitar, he held is hands up to a lamp, making a shadow vaguely shaped like a cat.

"My man, you may have a point in not going for the signs," Evan smiled. Pulling out a notepad, Zane scribbled on it with a pen. Evan took the pad and read it out loud.

"'Not pride, I _will_ speak again. Learning would be admitting I might fail'. Well if you say so, you gotta respect determination. So, you want to lose your combat virginity to a pair of creepy cat people?" Evan asked.

**XXX**

"This was not a good idea," Kitty told the two boys. They were in a clearing in the woods around the Institute, Zane with one of his guitars and Evan setting up a stereo. She was the one watching the trees, increasingly upset.

"Relax Kitty, it's a bit late for second thoughts. Besides, with your phasing, you stand a better chance than anyone," Evan told her. Kitty tried to think up a good way to tell him how dumb that was, when he turned on the stereo, the Dracula music blaring out. Holding up his camera, Evan gave her a thumb's up.

"Now let's shut up and dance, X-Girl!" he cheered. Kitty crossed her arms, glaring at him.

"Oh come on," Evan pleaded. The music cut off as Zane forcefully pushed the off button. Pulling out the disc, he frowned.

"Oh, now what's your problem?" Evan demanded.

"_Junk Rock_," Zane mouthed.

"What did he say?" Kitty asked.

"He thinks the soundtrack sucks," Evan told her. Zane mimed yanking a rope over his head while letting it hang loose, tongue sticking out.

"It's a high school musical, about vampires. Like, what were you expecting?" Kitty asked. Zane frowned, then paused, frowning deeper; clearly he wanted to tell exactly what he thought and was strapped on how to do that. Evan zoomed the camera in on Zane.

"Actually, this is great, slice of life. Two art enthusiasts butting heads over creative differences brought to by the Spyke – OH CRAP!" Spike yelled as his panning revealed Sabretooth bursting out of the trees.

"Daniels!" Rogue roared, hitting the ground by him. She grabbed his arm just below the shoulder and tossed him aside. The spikes already ripping through his clothes dug into the ground. His free arm lashed out, sending spikes toward his attacker. Rogue raised her arms over her face and chest, taking the hit.

"Sorry about this, but I bet you can't heal if it's still in you," he said. Kneeling, he raised both his arms as Rogue pulled a spike from her belly. She went down, taking eight more spikes from her thighs to her neck.

"Aiiihhh!" Kitty shrieked as Sabretooth lifted her over his head, knee out. He slammed her down on the knee, but instead of her back snapping she was thrown down through the knee into the ground.

Zane stepped up, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his jacket pocket. Taking a deep breath, he charged Sabretooth, and let out a scream. Saying it tore through the air was no exaggeration. The shrill yell was actually visible, the air twisting like a cone of gust out from Zane's mouth.

Sabretooth went down to one knee, his face twisted in pain as he opened his mouth wide and clamped hands over his ears.

"It's working, you turn their strength into a weakness," Evan cheered, pumping a fist. Then the shriek started to falter, and he saw Zane's face turning red. With Sabretooth still kneeling and not keeling over.

"Oh man," Spike cursed. The shriek thinned, the air returning to normal, and Sabretooth charged through it, landing a gut punch that knocked he rookie clear off his feet. Stumbling a bit, the Society mutant turned on Evan, who had filled his arms with spikes. Sabretooth's hearing must have been shot with how he shouted.

"THINK YOU'RE THE FIRST TO TURN MY SENSES AGAINST ME!? SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN SCHOOL, RUNT!" Sabretooth bellowed. Evan loosed the spikes; they may have grazed the tails of the mutant's coat.

The clawed hand closed around his throat like a vice, lifting him off the ground. He tried to gasp, and failed to take in any air.

"Sabretooth, let the boy go!" Logan shouted. Spike couldn't see the instructor, but guessed where he was as Sabretooth turned away.

"Logan, you shouldn't have run for cover. And with a weakling like you, any one hostage will be enough. This kid pisses me off!" Sabretooth grinned. Evan closed his eyes; any spike could have to hit Sabreooth's outstretched arm, and everything was going so black he wasn't sure he could even do that.

This monster was going to snap his neck.

'Sorry Mom, Dad. Don't blame yourself, Auntie O," he thought desperately. When his legs hit the grass and he landed on his rear, he realized he had been dropped. Sabretooth stood over him, wobbling on his feet, a look of angry confusion on his face as he pressed his hands to his chest.

Eyes rolling up into his head, Sabretooth fell to the side with a thud, showing Kitty to have been standing behind him, looking at her arms, covered in blood up to her forearms.

"Oh god I…" she muttered. She put her hands over her mouth, realizing the mistake too late; pulling them away, she hurled onto the grass.

"…Dang," Evan whispered, looking from the dainty X-Girl to the downed monster.

"He's still alive, don't rip yourself up over it Shadowcat," Wolverine said. Evan saw him standing over Sabretooth, pulling some very strong looking cuffs from his belt.

"R-really?" Kitty asked. Kneeling in front of her mess with half her face covered in gore with those big eyes, Evan was sure this was one of these things you remembered forever.

"This your idea, Porcupine?" Logan demanded. He was cuffing Sabretooth's feet now; Zane was on his feet now too.

'Everyone's okay, I didn't screw up that bad,' Evan told himself. It didn't sound like much, even in his head.

"Ballsy kid, stupid though. You too Coleman, rookie tag is no excuse for this. You're lucky she bailed you out," Wolverine said, pointing a fist as the sick looking girl.

"You idiots actually took him down?!" Rogue roared. She was holding two of the bloodied spikes in her claws, the rest were scattered around her on the grass.

"Some tough guy! It's all in his mutation," Evan snapped. The guilt and shock blew away as the new threat got to her feet. Zane stepped up next to him, putting themselves between Rouge and Kitty. Still the three stood, facing the powered up mutant, who didn't seem the least bit intimidated. Zane shot Evan a worried look.

'I know man, if she saw what she did, there is no getting the drop on her. She's definitely not as dangerous as Sabretooth, but this could get ugly,' Evan agreed to himself. If it was just him, he would not have hesitated on the bet, but Kitty and Zane had been roped into this by him…

Then Logan stepped between the X-Men and Rogue. He didn't leap in or fall into a crouch, just walked in as if this were just another session.

Rogue flinched back from him; despite being smaller than Sabretooth by a lot, she was getting that 'I can take you on no problem' vibe Logan seemed to have patented.

'I want that power,' Evan thought. He wondered if the Professor had a term for mutant power envy? If he was the first he wondered if it could be named after him?

"Back off. I can smell you're drunk on his juice. Guess Sabretooth was a bit too spicy for ya Stripes?" Wolverine turned his back on them to face her. She bared her fangs in a smile that Evan would not be ashamed to admit was scary.

"I've never felt more alive. My body, it's not weak! Could lay naked in the sun all day and not burn, run a mile without having to vomit up my stomach.

"I can take all you runts on!" she roared.

**Pow**

Logan's punch connected with her face, and Rogue went down like a ton of bricks, flat onm her back. The three X-Men stared in shock as Logan grabbed her by a furry foot and dragged her into the undergrowth. He returned calmly, and walked up to Evan and grabbed him by his shirt.

"Ballsy plan, Porcupine. My compliments for that. But this was a stupid, needless risk anyway. I'll see to it the Professor has me running you ragged until all your spikes are dull."

"Yes sir," Evan answered.

"And just so you know, that punch there would kill some people, metal knuckles and all," Logan said, letting him go.

"What do we do about them?" Evan asked, looking to where Sabretooth laid and then to the brush.

"We leave Rouge; she'll probably wake up sober and run home to Blight. If not, we deal with her. As for this bastard… we have a procedure," Logan told them.

**XXX**

Lazarus was waiting for her in the backyard. He was sitting in a fold out lawn chair; she could smell the age and creaks in the cheap metal and plastic. There was a second chair next to him, and a blue blanket spread out before them like for a picnic.

Ears drooped, Rogue approached him on all fours, sitting down on the blanket at his feet. She didn't like him looking down on her, but it felt wrong to approach him as an equal. She had been beaten; she was a failure.

"There's no need to whimper. Isn't that more a dog thing?" he told her. Ears perking, she stopped making the sound, realizing it was coming from her.

"I… I feel funny. Like I wouldn't mind if you kicked me now," she confessed.

"Mutations can affect how we perceive the world, and thus our minds. Some, like Logan, in the course of their lives master such, and it becomes just a component of the whole. Others, like Sabretooth, embrace it.

"I wonder if the differences are because you are female, or that his mutation is reacting differently for some reason. The X-gene truly is a divine mystery," Lazarus said.

"They took him. I failed," Rogue confessed.

"No, they will dump him somewhere, his mind worked over by Xavier. Eventually the Society will find him and put that mind back together. That's protocol." Rogue frowned; Sabretooth was not high on her list of people, but the idea of him getting strapped down for a mind rape…

'That could have been _you_ girl. Probably would be if Lazarus wasn't holding a stick to make those psychics think twice,' Rogue thought worriedly.

"They had me, but they just left me in the bushes. Wolverine punched me out!" Rogue confessed. Looking back, it had been stupid.

Lazarus agreed, after hearing the full story. Rogue had shifted to sit cross-legged, looking up at him, feeling the power rush start to ebb.

"So what now?" Rogue asked, fatigue rearing its ugly head again.

"The mission's done; hopefully you walk away with a lesson about keeping a handle on the power you absorb. My advice is go to your room and sleep off what's left of that power. When you shrink back down, either the new hair falls off, or take some shears to it.

"I have had more than my share of furry students over the years, but overnight it might raise some questions," Lazarus told her.

"So, I'm not in trouble for messing up?" Rogue pressed.

"Your task was to tag along and make sure Sabretooth didn't send matters spiraling out of control. He didn't, so the mission was not a failure even if that wasn't to your credit. Now get going – a healing factor is not a substitute for sleep, and you might crash when it wears off," Lazarus ordered.

Rogue gave a weary smile, and got wobbly to her feet and walked past him. Leaning back, Lazarus listened for the door to close. Pulling his hat further down he frowned, looking out under the brim on the scenery.

"What a lovely day; one would hardly guess there are such storms brewing over the horizon," Lazarus mused.

* * *

**AN:**

_And its back! About a third of this was sitting on my hard drive for a year. But despite time and changing some long-term plans, I still like this story. Juggernaut is up next along with the camp. Rogue and Lazarus take a step back letting other characters have a chance to shine. The play will come up again later._

_I want to avoid bashing in this story, so let me know if I am veering towards that. Rogue's views on Jean are colored by opinion, but I can see it as being seen that way._

_If anyone remembers this story from before, hope you enjoy its return._


End file.
